The Quidditch Trials
by sweasley
Summary: Dominique Weasley has waited ages to visit the annual Quidditch Trials, which at seventeen she's finally old enough to attend. Before her last year at Hogwarts is set to begin, she's off to spend a week with the best amateur Quidditch players around. But Qudditch isn't the only thing she'll face as the week brings out all sorts of new feelings and experiences. (Part 1/4)
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: If you recognize someone, they belong to JKR. The others are all creations of mine to fill the gaps. Plus, any similarities are accidental and completely unintentional._**

**A/N: The Quidditch Trials** is **Part 1** of a (soon to be) three part story. It and its companions are a continuation of the world I began way back with my original Ted/Victoire series. While this trilogy will stand entirely on its own and does not require you to check out previous stories, those that have will notice details travel in between. I personally would recommend starting from the beginning of the T/V series, but I also took the time to write everything, so I obviously want you to do that. :) You don't have to.

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**Summary**: Dominique Weasley has waited ages to visit the annual Quidditch Trials, which at seventeen she's finally old enough to attend. Before her last year at Hogwarts is set to begin, she's off to spend a week with the best amateur Quidditch players around. But Qudditch isn't the only thing she'll face as the week brings out all sorts of new feelings and experiences.

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**Personal A/N:** I'm back! And so happy to be back. This story has been a long time coming and I'm happy to have actually gotten fingers to keyboard to make it happen. For those who have been with me since early on, here's hoping I don't disappoint because I know you've waited awhile for this update.

While I plan on keeping general author's notes in the story, I've noticed some of the more random ones don't always age well. This is why I plan on putting those in my Profile after postings. This would also include answers to questions people may ask or general shout outs and comments. They'll be there if you feel like checking them out.

You guys have always been awesome (so awesome) and I enjoy the reviews and feedback tremendously. It keeps me going. It brought me back! Thanks to all who have kept in touch over the years. You were the ones who really did make this story happen. :)

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Prologue:

"It's probably better if we end it."

There she stood, feeling completely and utterly gobsmacked. Dominique Weasley was usually the one to deliver a crushing blow with some razor sharp wit; not be the one on the receiving end. She rarely let her guard down long enough to let other people to truly rattle her. The walls she'd built around herself were tall and practically impenetrable. That was the way she lived her life. But that was before she'd fucked up and stupidly let someone in.

It was a rainy and terribly humid July evening. The sun had been blocked entirely by the clouds, but it was still apparent that night hadn't quite arrived yet. Before her, averting his gaze to the ground as his dark hair hung low in front of his eyes, Henry Davies stood outside his home. He couldn't even properly look at her. Coward. The least he could do was have conviction in his words.

They'd been together—if one could truly call it that—for roughly nine months now. Their relationship hadn't been conventional, but nothing about the two of them ever had been. She'd only started paying attention to him in the first place due to a flagrant foul he'd committed on the Quidditch pitch years ago that nearly split her head open. She'd paid him back as soon as the match had ended by means of kneeing him in crotch in front of everyone watching.

They'd loathed each other after that. She hated him, his jet black hair, his stupid face, his tall and lanky frame, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he flew on his broom. Just hearing someone mention him in conversation was enough to make her jaw twitch. They often said every cruel and horrible thing they could think of to one another. There had been nothing off limits when it came to their war of words, and they both fought that battle for years.

"This thing is," Henry mumbled as they continued to stand there, "we've obviously had an expiration date. You knew that."

That was fucked up way of phrasing it, despite knowing where he was going with this. Had she expected to marry him and spend the rest of her days by his side? Absolutely not. The idea had never once crossed her mind. They weren't that kind of couple. She didn't love him, but she had some sort of feelings for him. She'd gotten so used to having them that she'd assumed they'd keep at it a bit longer. It was easy.

When things between them had started to change, no one was more surprised than her. A classic tale of rivals falling for each other, but not nearly as happily ever after as some of the books would have led her to believe. She could say that for sure now. At the time, it had all happened so fast. One minute they were fighting as usual; the next, he'd kissed her in a corridor and taken her completely by surprise. She'd had to fight off the urge to hit him out of reflex. Even worse was that she'd liked it. She'd liked the feeling of lips on hers and his body pressed against her. She had liked it even more when he dared to push the kiss further. She experienced an entirely new set of feelings that day; many of which were causing reactions in multiple parts of her body.

"I knew..." Dominique finally said, now finding her words but feeling stupid saying them. "I knew you'd been acting oddly since graduation. But you always claimed I was mental." She let her gaze harden. "Why didn't you say something months ago? Back when you were obviously getting bored?"

He shrugged, the sound of rain hitting the pavement all around them. "If you thought I was getting bored, why didn't you say something?"

"I did say something!" she snapped, though she hadn't said it explicitly. She had told him he was acting differently; she'd called him out for wanting to spend all of his time with his friends—friends he knew she hated. She had suspected he was doing it on purpose, spending time with people he knew she wouldn't be caught dead around. She should have trusted her gut.

After that first kiss in the corridor she had found herself frequently returning to him for more, despite her better judgement. It wasn't a relationship—it didn't resemble any of the things her friends had—but she didn't know what to call it. In the beginning, they'd barely spoken to each other; they would spend weeks acting perfectly detached from one another. When they did come together, it was only to fool around and snog. They'd barely speak, but they could always find time to pull into a corner of a deserted corridor and feel each other up. Physically they moved fast, with touching and snogging quickly leading to whatever else they—quite literally—could get their hands on.

There was an insatiable nature when it came to the physical aspect that Dominique couldn't get enough of. She'd never experienced anything like it; she'd never been with anyone before. He was her first everything. They way he kissed her, the way he touched her—she'd never known someone could make her feel wanted. Emotionally or socially, they still barely knew each other; physically though, she could tell you just how many freckles he had on his inner thigh or give you a perfect description of his orgasm face. It made the lack of any other connection they had seem worth it.

She had never in her life wanted a boyfriend, even once they'd started messing around. The whole idea of one seemed like something she could never quite get behind—the affection, the commitment, the responsibility—she didn't want any of that. But she had been surprised to find herself wanting something more after months of the physical. She wasn't quite sure what more meant, though if you asked her friends, they were convinced it meant she had feelings for him and wanted things to get more real. She refused to accept that and denied it to anyone who brought it up.

"Whatever you say," Henry mumbled again, his tone sounding irritated, as if this conversation was now inconveniencing him. What a prat. She'd managed to suppress those familiar feelings of rage toward him for nine months, but they were suddenly coming back with a vengeance. It was starting to feel like the old days.

"You're such a dick," she said, forcing herself to not break down in front of him. It was hitting her now, the wave of emotions that she'd been fighting the last few minutes. She didn't cry in public—that was a hard rule for her. She sure as hell wasn't going to start in front of him. She would never give him that satisfaction.

He sighed loudly, though it wasn't entirely cruel. "This was always a thing of convenience. You knew that. You're going back to school soon. I'm not. What's the point? I'm doing you a favor."

"A favor? I don't leave for another month," she snapped, though it sounded pitiful the second it had left her mouth. It was as if she was trying to reason with him when he'd already made up his mind. "And you know bloody well, this was more than a convenience. Nine months isn't a fucking convenience."

In retrospect, their relationship had never been good. The signs of him pulling away were now clear when she looked back. Once graduation and parties and celebrations started, he had begun to change and distance himself. She had thought that maybe once summer started, things would relax a bit since they'd have so much more free time, but that wasn't the case either. She'd barely seen him this summer. Evidently, he had a reason for that.

"You're right," he conceded, though he didn't sound entirely convincing. "But I can't help but feel it's run its course. It was a good ride."

A good ride? A good fucking ride? He was comparing what they'd just spent the last nine months doing together to a day trip on the Hogwarts fucking Express. She wanted to scream at him; to tell him how much he was fucking things up. How they had a good thing; they could be together, but have no real attachment or responsibilities to each other. How they didn't have to be one of those stereotypical couples who followed all the rules. They matched well with their weird quirks and brash personalities. She wanted to say all of this to him, but if she so much as tried, she would have cried. She was barely holding it in as it were.

"Fuck you," she said, turning on her heels and walking several paces into the rain. If he'd said anything else or tried to stop her, she didn't know. Within seconds, she'd already Apparated away.


	2. Chicken Legs

"Why are boys so stupid?" Dominique asked, leaning back into the deck chair that she'd been occupying for most of the evening. Her eyes were on her twin brother, Louis, their friends, and various other male school mates that were currently acting like complete idiots in Flynn Taggart's back garden. It was late—or possibly early—and most of them had been drinking for hours. The boys were off their heads drunk by now and it showed, given they had set up a makeshift boxing ring and were taking turns to fake punch and smack each other. Someone was bound to eventually get an actual fist to face, which they all deserved. It looked awful, but the group was having a loud laugh. Idiots.

In the chair beside her, her friend, Sarah Kirke, sighed loudly as her expression grew concerned. Louis—her boyfriend—was currently at the center of this nonsense, as he often was. He couldn't help it; he had a relentless need to always be in the thick of things. Perhaps Sarah was worried that the eventual fist to the face would meet him, thus roughing up his handsome features for a week or so. Dominique would honestly laugh if it did. Serves him right.

It was mid—August, on a particularly warm summer night in Godric's Hollow—a neighborhood where a large community of witches and wizards lived together. Sarah lived here, about four houses down from Flynn, as well as many of the others that they went to school with. It seemed very much the place to be lately, with every friend of a friend finding their way here eventually. Nights like tonight, where it was originally Dominique and her usual group, quickly turned into at least five more people turning up out of the blue. It was becoming so frequent that it was now normal.

Her brother and their friends seemed to be lapping up every second of freedom. They were seventeen now, adults by wizarding standards. It was their last proper summer as students, seeing as they soon would be entering their seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After that, who could say where things would take them. Some would opt for a gap year; others could easily slip right into a career. It would be different next summer.

While she would have loved to be carefree and a little dumb right now, she couldn't turn her mind off enough lately to achieve it. She instead would find herself preoccupied by the sullen mood that continued to creep up on her lately. It was proving to be hard to shake.

"If Jack hits Art, he's going to break him in half," Sarah muttered, finally looking away from the boys across the garden. "He's got at least three stone on him."

"I would have said four," Dominique mumbled, watching her friend, Jack Ians—an athletic bloke with a nice, proper Beater's build—push away a rail thin fifth-year by the name of Art. He looked as if he was trying to do the kid a favor by stepping back repeatedly, but Art kept coming at him like an aggressive wasp. "I feel if this actually turned into a proper brawl, Jack could take the lot."

"I wouldn't bet against it," Sarah said, yawning as she checked her watch.

"What time is it?"

"Half past midnight."

Dominique stretched her arms over her head. It was time for her to leave. She'd already had enough to drink; any more and she'd probably reach actual drunkenness. As it was, she was buzzed in a lovely sort of way. She didn't feel like herself—which lately was her ultimate goal—but she wasn't out of her mind like the boys were. It was a happy in between, despite the fact that she didn't feel entirely happy. She didn't feel completely miserable either though, so that was a plus.

"How much have you had tonight?" Sarah asked, gesturing to Dominique's now empty can.

"Less than I've had in the last couple of nights. Suppose I'm being good."

"I noticed you were taking it slow."

Of course she'd noticed; she'd always been exceptionally observant to the point of being nosy. Nothing got past her, which was sometimes extremely annoying. Especially when she said things like—

"Have you finally realized you can't just drink Davies away?"

She sighed. Even hearing his name made her jaw clench. She didn't want anyone—for any reason— thinking that he had any influence on her decisions. She didn't want it assumed that she was thinking about him at all. "I wasn't trying to."

"We could talk about it. It's been nearly a month and you've barely—"

"Nope. Don't want to do that."

Now it was Sarah's turn to sigh. "You know, keeping it bottled up never helps." She wasn't particularly drunk either—they were probably on equal footing—but even with a bit of alcohol in her system, Sarah tended to get very engrossed in everyone's business. She always wanted to use the opportunity to have meaningful conversations or get people to delve into the deepest parts of their souls to share their thoughts. She was a perfect friend to have around if someone truly wanted to talk things out. Problem was, Dominique never wanted to do that.

"I prefer bottled up."

"See, you do this," Sarah gestured to Dominique's body language, "to try to scare people off. Close yourself up, make snide comments, give nasty looks. Everyone leaves you alone. I see through the whole act."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"And that too," she continued. "You give these shit answers. I know you better than that. Do you want to know how I know this breakup is still bothering you?"

"Not really."

"If it really didn't bother you, you'd have been yelling it from the rooftops and you know it."

Dominique said nothing. Her gaze was now on Art, who had fallen to the ground and was drunkenly stumbling to get back up with the help of Flynn's younger brother, Flyer. Louis was standing there telling him to give it a rest. Behind him, Jack was pulling off a sweaty looking, long-sleeved shirt that he'd had layered over a regular t-shirt. Dominique found herself far more interested in watching him do that than anything Sarah had to say.

"When you actually don't care," Sarah continued, "you let people have it. You yell, you curse, you make their lives shit. You call them out and tell anyone who will listen about what an arsehole they are. You are ruthless and unforgiving."

"If that's all it takes," Dominique said with a shrug. "Fine. Henry is an arsehole. There. I've said it."

"If you mean it, yell it."

"Sorry?"

She pointed over to where the group had abandoned Art in his drunken stupor on the ground and now seemed bored of their game. Perhaps someone finally got hit in the face; maybe it had been Art. "Yell it so even they can hear you. Tell everyone."

"I'm not going to yell it."

"Because you're not over him. You cared about Davies—"

"No, I didn't."

"—and you're still processing the—"

"Oi!" Dominique yelled in the general direction of the boys, only two of whom even stopped what they were doing to turn and look. "Henry Davies is a fucking arsehole!"

Someone in the group made a "whoo!" sound, while another voice repeated, "fucking arsehole!" for reasons that probably had nothing to do with Henry. There was a brief laughter, but after a moment or so, they'd all returned to talking in their circle.

She smiled smugly. "See? Over it."

"You're so full of shit," Sarah said, settling back into her chair.

She laughed, feeling victorious as her eyes looked up the sparsely starry night. The truth was that Sarah wasn't entirely wrong, but she was not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve—or her trousers or even her shoes. She didn't wear it anywhere, and instead made sure it was buried deep, deep inside where no one could ever have a look. It was safer that way—she knew that now.

People wanted more information about what had happened with Henry; she knew that. She'd barely told anyone anything, other than the fact that he'd been the one to end things and they were now over. She'd called him a few choice names, but people wanted to know the details; ones that she wasn't comfortable giving up. The questions had come from all directions—from Sarah, from Louis, from Jack, from her sister, from her mother. Even fucking Flynn—who despite the two having known each other for the past six years, she had no real relationship with. But she'd given no real answers. She'd brushed everyone off. She'd said nothing. She didn't want anyone to think she cared.

"What time are you leaving to catch your Portkey tomorrow?" Sarah asked after long silence. Thankfully, it seemed that she was changing the subject.

"It's at eight-something," she said, letting her gaze fall back onto her friend. "I cannot wait to get out of here."

"I'd imagine so," she said, stifling a yawn. "You've only talked about being able to attend that Quidditch Training thing since the day I met you."

That was the absolute truth. Since the day her Aunt Ginny had told her all about the annual Quidditch Training Trials as a child, she'd been obsessed with the idea of going. It was a once a year, immersive Quidditch experience where hundreds and hundreds of wizards from across the continent showed up to learn, play, train, and, for some—if they were lucky—gain a spot on a professional Quidditch team. Those numbers were small though, and the truth was that the IQA—the International Quidditch Association, which was a collection of high-ranking Quidditch representatives from various countries—already had their eyes on those people well before they'd even turned up at camp. Those players were always personally invited by the IQA, and training at the camp was more of a formality than a tryout.

Non-invited witches and wizards could still attend. They had to register and pay fees; for them the Trials were treated more as an experience or even a holiday. The only requirements to attend were that you had to have played Quidditch in some organized capacity at some point in your life and that you had to be of legal age.

It seemed that many people simply loved the idea of being able to relive their glory days on a broom since the event always had a large turnout. Despite invited players usually being the only ones that were picked for anything greater, it didn't mean that on occasion, a random new person couldn't be discovered. They'd be lucky if they made it as an alternate somewhere, but it wasn't unheard of. Dominique suspected that for a lot of the people who came year after year, the hope of it maybe finally being their time was what drove them.

For her, this was the first year she was eligible to attend, having turned seventeen the previous March. Her experience would be a bit different, considering she was still a student—and thus considered a student athlete. Her trip was organized through Hogwarts and the Ministry, along with any of the other of-age classmates she had who wished to attend. None of them were eligible to be plucked up by a team until the following year, though having a good performance would certainly gain them the attention of the right people. It was essential to show them every bit of potential in the hopes of earning an invitation for the following year. In some ways, this was the most important trip of them all. She had been ready for this for years.

"And the timing couldn't be better," Sarah continued.

"Yeah, I need the break. I need to just play Quidditch."

"You need to be surrounded by cute Quidditch boys," she said. "Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And since you've clearly got a thing for Quidditch players…" She trailed off before adding. "And I've heard the stories out of that place."

She again wasn't wrong. Along with all the hard-work and training, it was also well known that the Quidditch Training Trials was a bit of a breeding ground for partying and sex. While everyone had dreams of Quidditch stardom, most of them knew it wouldn't actually happen. The best players had something to strive for, but for everyone else it was just a good time. She'd heard that, once there, people found themselves surrounded by others who were generally fit and athletic; many of whom were ready to let loose. She'd heard many of the stories as well, and every one of them involved some drunken adventure or random sex act.

"Here's hoping I can find some good looking ones," Dominique said, fighting off a yawn and wondering whether she should leave for home now or wait a few more minutes. "I could use the change of scenery. Everyone here looks like a potato."

Sarah snorted a laugh at that, but then just as quickly said, "Not everyone. Louis definitely doesn't."

"He might as well for all I care."

"Ok, well, Jack doesn't either," she said in a matter-of-fact way. Her tone had been very direct, as if she was making a point. When Dominique turned to look at her, she was smirking. How on earth did she…? Bloody hell, she really did notice absolutely everything.

She turned away and said nothing in response to that. Jack was Jack. One of her closest friends, her brother's best friend, her Quidditch teammate. Those were the boxes she put him in and didn't give it much more thought. But she'd be lying if she couldn't admit that he'd been looking really good lately. After a break up of his own at the start of the year, he'd been working out quite a bit. On top of that he was a Beater, and they generally had really great arms from all that bat swinging. She had a thing for arms and, well, his were perfect. Everything had come together for him quite nicely over the last few months. She could admit that. It definitely made for a nice change of pace given all of these potatoes.

"Whenever you drink," Sarah said, "you don't exactly hide the fact that you shamelessly watch him. Don't worry, I'm not sure _anyone_ but me has noticed."

"Is that your way of saying you haven't said anything to my brother?"

"I don't tell your brother everything."

She wasn't sure she entirely believed that, but she didn't bother arguing. Instead, she sat up straighter in her chair, ready to own these accusations. "Alright, fine. I enjoy watching him. Guilty as charged." She gestured over toward him. "His arms alone—"

Sarah snorted a laugh. "What is with you and arms? But yes, I have eyes. He looks great. But I'm not checking him out like you are. Why would I when I have my own very cute boyfriend to check out?"

"Your boyfriend has chicken legs."

Sarah gaped.

"But, I mean, If you're into that..."

She bit her tongue, always having to tread a very delicate line between defending her man and dealing with his twin sister who would never not take the piss out of him. As far as Dominique was concerned, Sarah brought it upon herself the day she fell in love with him. It was her cross to bear now. Not that Sarah didn't have her own ways of getting back at her.

"Alright, so, back to your crush on Jack.."

"For fuck's sake," Dominique said, letting her head fall back in chair so that she was gazing up at the sky. "Five minutes ago I'm not over Henry and now I fancy Jack. Which is it? I can't keep up."

"I'm only wondering if I have to worry about you two heading off to this Quidditch thing and then...you know."

"What!?" Her head shot up and her face twisted into complete disbelief. Was she being serious? "No. He's nice to look at. I don't want to actually fuck him. Do you know how weird that would be?"

"Weirder than you fucking someone that you absolutely hated for years?"

Ok, that was a fair point. She could acknowledge that. She didn't have a particularly good track record for ignoring potentially weird pairings, but this was different. "You don't have anything to worry about. I only even have a look when I've been drinking. Sober me knows better."

"Yeah, because as we said earlier, this Quidditch thing is super chaste, dry, and boring where no one has any sex or fun and everyone just sits around reading."

Again, another fair point. She was on a roll. "Look, if I decided to fuck anyone, it's got to be someone I'll never see again. That's my one rule. I'm looking for something easy and mindless. Something I don't have to deal with once it's over."

"Good rule," Sarah said. "Here's hoping you stick to it."

"Also," Dominique said, now feeling the buzz of alcohol really surging through her body. "With this Jack thing, you're neglecting a key detail."

"Which is?"

"Even if I did decide to say, '_Fuck it, let's have sex with Jack today because why not complicate and fuck things up in my life even more than I already have!"_ you have to remember that he's also got a say in things. He'd have to agree." She leaned across the table toward her. "But this is me we're talking about. I'm not a regular girl. I'm his friend. Even better, I'm his _best friend's _sister. He wouldn't dare. He's a man of honor."

Sarah laughed loudly at that. "Like a knight?"

"Sure," she said. "He knows better than to break the bonds of friendship by fucking your best friend's sibling."

Sarah blinked at the very specific choice of words that she knew were meant for her. Dominique had already sent her and Louis through the ringer back when she'd first found out about the two of them hooking up behind her back. It had been a big secret that they were fucking and apparently now madly in love with each other. Had she not accidentally found out on Christmas Eve last year, who knew how long they would have kept that secret in the dark. She'd felt betrayed, angry, and fairly abandoned for awhile after that.

And while she would verbally forgive the pair of them, that was well before she actually had. It had taken her months to actually come to terms with her brother dating her best friend, but she ultimately did accept it. They'd all made peace with the fact since, but that didn't stop her from attempting to poke the bear from time to time.

"I guess that makes Jack a better person that me," Sarah said coldly.

When Dominique looked over at her, she seemed put off. Shit, she'd poked too hard. She could be a real bitch on a normal day, but when she'd been drinking, she legitimately had no filter. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," she said, sipping her drink and watching something across the garden. When Dominique turned to look, she saw the pack of boys starting to disperse and head in their direction. Flynn was leading the charge, with the other boys trailing behind him and talking about something having to do with the mechanics of dragon sex. As they passed toward the house, there was a general murmur of quick good nights and goodbyes; Louis and Jack lagged at the end of the group and both stopped as soon as they reached them.

"Heyyyy," Louis said, clearly drunk as he pulled the last deck chair over and placed it directly next to Sarah's. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Sarah said, not looking exactly thrilled to see him at the moment. The smell of Firewhiskey was palpable.

"Chicken legs," Dominique offered.

Louis squinted at his sister despite the fact that there were no bright lights around. "What?"

"Nevermind." Over the summer, Louis had proven he liked to drink, but to get this drunk was even much for him. It was probably the reason Sarah didn't look particularly amused. She usually kept up with him when it came to drinking, so it was clear she didn't see this side of him very often. "I give you about ten minutes until you're black out cold on Flynn's kitchen floor."

"I hope that is where you plan on sleeping," Sarah said, "because you're not coming back to my place like this."

Louis, even in this state, managed to somehow turn on his limitless charm as he reached over and gave Sarah's shoulder a squeeze. He leaned in close—his eyes took on an almost puppy—like sweetness—and he said something to her that no one could hear, but it made her laugh. It was only a matter of time now. He always won in the end.

"Bleh," Dominique muttered, turning away from the both of them. Her eyes settled on Jack, who was lying face down in a nearby patch of grass. He didn't look quite as attractive as she usually found him when he was like this.

"You're going to regret this tomorrow," she said, reaching out the tip of her trainer to nudge his leg.

"I shouldn't have had that much," he mumbled. "The room is spinning."

"We're outside."

"The outside is spinning."

"You remember that you're supposed to be up early tomorrow to meet me before we catch our Portkey, right?"

"Yes," he said as he rolled onto his back, "But that's future me's problem."

"Future you is going to think present you is an arsehole."

"He wouldn't be wrong," he mumbled, raising his arms above his head to shield his eyes. The action caused his shirt to rise at the bottom, exposing some of his bare stomach. She was back to finding him attractive again.

At the same time, the sound of the back door opening and shutting caught Dominique's attention. From the house, Flynn's younger sister, Fiona—who was due to start her second—year at school soon and thus, had to make her about twelve—had walked outside. Her eyes immediately settled on the four of them.

"Is my brother out here?"

Sarah turned to face her, immediately looking concerned at having heard her voice. Having grown up down the street, Sarah had always been close with Flynn's family. Sarah often referred to Fiona as a little sister of sorts, especially considering Sarah's own home life was unconventional—being the only child of a second marriage. Her half-brothers were all in their thirties and she'd essentially grown up on her own.

"I think he's out front saying goodnight to some people. Did you need something?"

She shrugged, stepping forward toward the group of them. "I was trying to sleep and I wanted him to keep it down. Everyone's being so loud.".

"Everyone's left now, so it'll get quieter," Sarah said with a smile. Fiona had approached them entirely now and wasn't even hiding her curious intentions. She reached out to inspect a Firewhiskey bottle that one of the boys had brought over and left on the table. Sarah plucked it from her hands without a word.

Fiona let her eyes traveling over to where Jack was still lying in the grass. Her expression turned to one of panic. "Is Jack OK?"

"He's just had a little too much," Dominique said, reaching her trainer out again to tap—or rather, gently kick him. "You alive down there?"

He groaned a little.

"See? He's fine."

Louis suddenly sat up straight, almost looking as if he'd dozed off for a moment. He blinked several times before his eyes focused on Fiona. "Where'd she come from? Has she been here all night?"

"Go home, Louis," Dominique said, rolling her eyes. "Actually, don't go home because that's where I'm going and I don't feel like listening to the lecture you'd get from mum and dad." She stood up and gave the group a once over. "With that, I'm getting out of here."

"Have fun at the Trials," Sarah said, throwing her a lazy smile. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Dominique smiled. She wanted to say that that meant there was very little off limits then, but with Fiona still standing there, she refrained. Plus, it just wasn't nearly as fun anymore to take the piss on her sex life when her brother was the one on the receiving end of things; it just made things weird.

She tapped Jack once more in the leg, warning him he'd better not miss the Portkey in the morning before she walked over to where her brother was rubbing his eyes. She flicked him in the side of the head, which made him recoil but not react much otherwise. He'd be passed out in minutes.

"Go to bed," she said to him before wishing everyone else quick goodbyes. In the next moment, she Apparated to right beyond her house, where she was hit by a gust of wind off the ocean that forced her hair to splay all over her face. It seemed particularly blustery that evening, which made her wonder if a storm was on its way. If it was, she hoped it hit sooner rather than later. She loved falling asleep to the sound of the rain.

As she turned and began walking toward her childhood home, she noticed the lights were still on in the sitting room. It was after midnight, and her parents had given up waiting up for her and Louis—Louis particularly—ages ago. They'd never sleep if they did. Not to mention, the pair of them—again, Louis particularly—were likely to spend the night out at Sarah's than come home, so it made for an even more curious reason as to why the lights would be on at this hour.

She reached the front door, and opened it with a flick of her wand knowing it wasn't unlocked. Her mother refused to have unlocked doors at the house—residual paranoia from the war decades before. As she entered, she braced herself for an inevitable lecture about being out late. It wouldn't be a scolding or an argument, but her parents would still have to throw in a chat about how sneaking around the house late at night in an attempt to keep quiet was something that unsettled them immensely—again, due to residual paranoia from the war. When that lecture didn't immediately come, she slowly poked her head around the corner. Sitting on the sofa, the radio playing low, was her older sister, Victoire, and her boyfriend, Ted.

"It's you," Dominique said, now entering the room fully. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Victoire said, her strawberry blonde hair pulled effortlessly up in a messy, but still perfect looking bun. She was dressed down, as if she'd been cleaning or exercising. She'd apparently worked up a sweat at some point, though instead of looking gross and in need of a shower, she looked dewy and fresh faced. Victoire's definition of sloppy still always managed to somehow look immaculately put together.

"You live here _for now,_" Dominique corrected, now noticing a stack of boxes that had been placed by the stairs. "By week's end, that's a different story."

"Already ready to be rid of me," Victoire said to no one in particular, though she glanced over at Ted after she said it. He smirked, but said nothing and returned to reading a copy of the Daily Prophet that was sprawled across his lap. Dominique noticed he was actually dressed in robes, as if he'd come from somewhere, and his hair was a boring brown shade instead of one of the usual fun colors he generally morphed it into due to being a Metamorphmagus. He most likely had come from his job at the hospital where they made him fit into a boring, proper mold. The bags under his eyes were another dead giveaway since he worked long hours and spent whatever leftover time he had with Victoire. It explained why they were both sitting around being boring in the living room.

"Have you finished packing yet?" Dominique asked her sister, walking over to sit on the sofa opposite the pair of them.

"Almost," she said, not looking up from a piece of parchment she'd been reading over moments earlier. "Checking my to-do list as we speak. Whit's coming over in the morning and helping me move some boxes."

"And why aren't you helping?" Dominique asked Ted, half kidding. Truth was that she already knew his answer before he said it.

Victoire answered first, "He has to work," just as Ted—sounding as tired as he looked—managed a lame sounding, "Have to work."

"They're short-handed this week," Victoire added. "Two people took a holiday, and somehow that got approved. So Ted will be dead on his feet." She reached over and gave his back an affectionate rub.

"I get a few days off next month," he said, mustering a weak smile. Dominique assumed that was an attempt at a joke; it seemed sad given how tired he looked.

"It's fine," Victoire said. "Dad and Mum are helping. As is Whit. I'm going to try and get Louis to help as well."

"That's not happening."

"Why?"

"If he survives the night and doesn't succumb to alcohol poisoning, he's not getting out of bed before sometime next week."

Victoire's expression tightened up. She looked back over at the door, as if realizing he hasn't returned with her. "Wait, where is he? Wasn't he with you?"

"He was, but he went and drink his body weight in Firewhiskey tonight," she said. "He's Sarah's problem now. And last I saw she was annoyed and told him he was sleeping at Flynn's, but you know he'll lay the charm on thick and before you know it, he'll be right back in it again."

"'Back _at it _again?'" Victoire corrected.

"The _it _I was referring to was his Sarah's fanny," she said. "Sorry if that wasn't clear."

Victoire wrinkled her nose and groaned, though Ted laughed a little and said, "Sounds like he's enjoying his last summer before he graduates. You only get one. It's supposed to be a good time."

Victoire pulled a face, "I spent mine bring driven mental over whether or not you fancied me back. It wasn't particularly fun playing the 'will they/won't they' game."

"Being driven mental?" Ted repeated. "What did I do? Last I checked, you left me high and dry and went to France—"

"I'm just saying emotions were high that summer."

"Can we not relive the adventures of Victoire and Teddy tonight?" Dominique asked. "I'd like that story to stay on the shelf where it belongs. We've all already heard it a thousand times."

They both stared at her for a long moment before Victoire glanced back at him and muttered, "I'm not even going to miss her when I'm gone. I'm not."

He laughed as he started folding up his newspaper. "And why aren't you out getting drunk with Louis?"

"I have to leave tomorrow for the Quidditch Trials," she said as she used one shoe to kick her other shoe off. "Bright and early. Can't miss my Portkey."

"That's where Durrin's going," Ted said, tossing the paper to the opposite side of the sofa. "He's leaving tomorrow as well."

"Oh, is he?" Dominique asked, remembering her old Quidditch captain and Keeper, Durrin Adams. He was two years older than her and had been the team's captain the year both she and Jack had made the team; he'd been the one who'd selected them. She'd often argued with him and he'd made her fly probably hundreds of laps over the three years they'd played together, but he was ultimately an alright bloke. These days, Durrin worked in the same department Ted did at St. Mungo's. They'd apparently become really good friends since Victoire had often mentioned how she and Ted spent a lot of time with him.

"Yeah," he continued. "It's why he took the week off. He lives for this week. Missed it last year when he had to start working at the hospital, but was ready for it this year. Says it's madness in the best possible way."

"Everyone's always saying that, but what does that mean?" Victoire asked. "What is so wild about a bunch of people playing Quidditch?"

"From what I hear," Ted began, "it's that during the day it's all Quidditch, but at night, you've got all these adrenaline filled Quidditch players looking to burn off some steam, mix in some alcohol, some sex, and..." He trailed off.

Victoire now look of concern was almost a perfect match for the one their mother often gave them.

"I'm just going to play Quidditch," Dominique said innocently, though she couldn't hide her smile as she said it. Watching Victoire squirm at her idea of unapproved debauchery was hilarious.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Victoire said, her face growing more concerned. "Just...please make good choices."

"I will," Dominique said with a shrug. "I won't shag anyone ugly."

Ted laughed at that, though it made Victoire groan loudly. "I'm serious, Nic."

"I am as well," Dominique said. "I'm on the rebound. What's the harm in making some new friends?"

"You don't make friends with your vagina."

"Fine, I'll just make enemies with it," Dominique countered. "When you're naked in the dark, what's the difference anyway?"

Victoire's expression, which was currently a mixture of shock and annoyance, was worth every minute of this exchange. It was too easy to rile her up. She would genuinely miss this when she moved out.

"To be fair," Ted began, "I could see how one could…"

"Do not encourage her."

"I'm not encouraging her," Ted said. "This is Nicki. She'd going to do what she wants, when she wants, how she wants, and nothing I say is going to stop her."

"He seems to know me better than my own sister," Dominique said. "And if we're being honest, I'm genuinely going for the Quidditch. I mean, who knows what kind of people are going to turn up there. Watch it be a whole bunch of goons like Durrin."

"Don't have sex with Durrin," Victoire said immediately.

"What's wrong with Durrin?" Ted asked. "You were talking about setting him up with Whit not that long ago."

"Until I realized he's not over Annabelle," Victoire said. "And never will be."

Dominique's ears perked up at that. She knew an Annabelle. Annabelle Paige was Durrin's ex and had been a Seeker for Hufflepuff a few years prior. She'd been an average Seeker—better than anyone else in her house apparently was—but Dominique had caught the Snitch against her every time they'd met. Then again, she caught the Snitch against most people. "Is Annabelle going?"

"I'm fairly certain she's the entire reason Durrin goes," Victoire said, and Ted's expression only confirmed that comment.

"I always liked her," Dominique said. "She was always really cool."

"She's too much for me," Victoire said, picking her to-do list back up. "People like her are exhausting with their constant need to go out and be around everyone and makes friends with everyone."

"Yeah, but she'll show you a good time while you're out there," Ted said, giving Dominique a look. "That girl always knows where to go and what to do."

"Wonder if she knows _who_ to do, too?" Dominique asked, now smirking at her sister. "Then, she can help me find the best one night stands."

"Please don't," Victoire said. "Go play Quidditch and ignore all the distractions like Annabelle—or Durrin when he's with Annabelle—because then he's just as bad."

"I say go have fun," Ted offered. "Remember that seventh-year is non-stop. You spend almost the entire year studying for N.E.W.T.s, so live it up now. After that you get a job, you work endless hours, you wish for the days when it was easy to drop everything and go be dumb."

"For the record, I'm not saying she shouldn't go and have a good time. Just be responsible. I don't want you making any dumb mistakes that you can't take back."

Dominique shrugged. "If you haven't noticed by now, that's my specialty."


	3. Old Married

"Do you have everything you need?" asked Dominique's mother as she spooned her a second helping of porridge at breakfast. She seemed extra concerned about her needing to eat a large breakfast today. "Your Portkey leaves in an hour, so you will need to leave soon."

"Mum, I'm gone a week," Dominique said, pushing a blueberry down into her porridge with her spoon. "You're only half as concerned whether I've packed properly when I leave for school."

"You have laundry at school," her mother said. "And it's a different environment. This…" She trailed off. Dominique had a suspicion her mother had heard some of the stories surrounding the Trials, though perhaps not quite to their full extent. She seemed more bothered by the sheer amount of grown adults that Dominique would be interacting with, but knew that this was also now her life. She wasn't a small child anymore. In a year's time, she was graduating and going out into the real world—something Victoire was demonstrating this very minute in the adjacent room.

"I think I've got most of the big boxes are downstairs," Victoire said, walking into the kitchen in a bouncy sort of way. She slid up to the table next to Dominique and began helping herself to fruit. "Now the hard work begins."

Victoire had been packing for this move all summer. She and her best friend, Whit, were getting a place in Diagon Alley not far from where Ted lived. It hadn't been much of a secret that Victoire had hoped to move in with Ted, though her parents had asked her to slow down a bit. They'd even offered to pay for some of the rent and expenses if she at least moved off on her own first. It wasn't that they liked Ted—they did like him—they simply knew he worked long hours and often overnights at the hospital, and they had hoped Victoire would have a more stable sort of flatmate on her first venture into the real world. It had worked itself out that for the first year, Victoire wouldn't live with Ted. She'd just spend all of her time there.

Her mother hummed distractedly as she busied herself by charming several hand towels to wipe the counters. She didn't like to talk about Victoire moving out and often changed the subject. It came as no surprise when she suddenly asked, "And Dominique, Jack is coming here this morning?"

"Doubtful," Dominique said in between bites.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding alarmed. "Is Jack not going now? Did something change?"

She gulped hard. She had momentarily forgot that her mother seemed calmed by the fact that Jack was going to be at the Trials with her, as if having a friend there would make things easier for some reason. Or perhaps she felt he'd be some sort of protector—a bizarre thought considering Dominique could handle herself and her mother knew that. But she ultimately let her mother think that because it made things easier.

"No, I mean, he is. I just don't know if he'll be here this morning. He had a late night."

"Louis as well, it seems," her mother said, not hiding her annoyance at Louis—yet again—staying out all night.

Louis, her precious baby boy. Her mother never claimed to have favorites, but there was something about the way she talked about Louis. He could never do wrong—even when he did. It helped that on paper, he was perfect. Perfect student, perfect looking, perfectly charming, perfectly well-mannered. But he was also seventeen now and perfectly into having a good time with his friends. He was also perfectly into spending all his free time with his girlfriend. It was something their mother was still reconciling and learning to live with.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't see Jack until—"

A sudden knock on the door made her catch herself. Both Victoire and her mother made similar expressions, as if to say, "_maybe not."_

"It's not possible…" She stood and exited the kitchen, heading straight for the front door. With a quick snatch at the knob, she pulled it open.

"Morning!" said a chipper little brunette with a friendly grin and a cup of coffee in her hand. It wasn't Jack, but instead Victoire's best friend and new flatmate, Jane Whitters—or as they called her, Whit.

"Morning," Dominique said, stepping aside to let her enter. At the same time, Victoire had entered the room after presumably hearing the familiar voice from the kitchen. She looked surprised.

"I wasn't expecting you until lunchtime."

"I was up early and had nothing else to do," Whit said, waving politely at their mother. "I thought maybe you needed some last minute help packing."

Victoire shook her head, but motioned for her to follow her into the kitchen as she mentioned something about being finished and needing to wait for her father to get things started. Dominique turned away and absently began shutting the door behind her when something caught it and gave it a push back.

"Hey, hold on," came Jack's voice from the other said. She recognized it immediately and pulled the door back. There he stood, looking as fresh as a daisy. His face barely had a trace of a drunken night on it; his eyes looked well rested and there wasn't a single one of his dark blonde hairs out of place. He was even smiling. "Morning."

"You're here."

"'Course I am," he said, now looking confused as he shifted the broom he was holding from one hand to the other. "Should I not be?"

"You looked dead last night," she said, side stepping the door to allow him to enter. "I genuinely didn't think you'd make it this morning. Did you sleep at Flynn's?"

"I did, but I'd already planned on that, so I had all of my things with me," he said, setting his backpack down on the ground and his broom against the wall.

"That still doesn't explain why you're not in a shit state this morning." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Last I saw you were face down in the garden."

"Flynn's dad helped me out. He keeps some Pepper-Up Potion in the house. Sobers you right up and kills a hangover like—" He snapped his fingers. "Flynn reminded me to take some last night, and I woke up feeling fine."

"Did Louis take any?"

"I don't know. He went home with Sarah. I don't think so."

"Of course," she said under her breath as she mentally scolded Sarah for giving in to her brother so easily. At the same time, her mother had curiously entered the room, presumably to see who she was talking to. The second she laid eyes on Jack, she smiled.

"Hello, Jack," she said, though in her slight French accent it sounded far more like Jaques.

"Hi, Fleur," he said politely, returning her smile. Dominique's parents loved Jack and they always had. They'd been amused by his Muggleborn ways and questions when he'd first started appearing around their house back in the early years, and they enjoyed the balance he seemed to bring into Louis's life now that they were older. Louis was the outgoing one; naturally cool; the person that people wanted to know and be with. Jack had always been the reserved one, more quiet, always observing. He had been "Louis' friend" for many years, but that changed in the last year or so. He'd come out of his shell, and once people got to know him, he was a talker. He was genuinely a nice person, and as far as most people at school were concerned, these days he was nearly as popular as Louis was. Getting Quidditch captain had cemented that for him.

"I'm so happy to see you made it," her mother said, now turning her smile onto her daughter. "Dominique had said you may not, so I was worried."

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to worry about me," Jack said in a tone that her mother loved to hear. Dominique couldn't even fake that tone if she tried, but everyone else seemed good at it—Jack, Sarah, Louis, Victoire. They could turn it on like a faucet. She wasn't sure where she missed learning that little trick.

"Did Louis come back with you?"

Dominique shot Jack a look, but he didn't take his eyes off her mother. Without missing a beat, he said, "No, he was still asleep. Knowing him he'll have a lie in until about noon."

Her mother's smile twisted into an expression that Dominique knew was anything but curious. She was annoyed and trying not to show it. To her credit, she quickly forced it off of her face and returned to smiling. "Did you want something to eat before you go? I have some porridge or some fruit."

"Mum, we really should be going," Dominique said, glancing back at Jack. "I'll get my bag. It's in the kitchen. My broom's out front."

He nodded and gave her mother a shrug. "I would have loved to since I missed breakfast, but Nic's right. We really do need to get going."

"Some toast, then," her mother said in a final sort of way, quickly turning into the kitchen. "You cannot leave without something in your stomach."

"Mum."

But she was already gone. Dominique shook her head, but knew there was nothing she could say to get her mother off her current mission. It was better to just let her take the two minutes to make the toast than argue. She shrugged at Jack, who did the same before mumbling, "I could definitely eat some toast."

"I'd have thought Flynn's dad would have provided you a four course spread this morning," she said, smirking at her own joke and she entered the kitchen. "He'll keep you sober, but not fed. Some good he is."

"Well, I did have to leave early. Maybe they had it planned for…" His voice had slowly tapered off before disappearing entirely. When Dominique glanced back at him to see what the problem was, she noticed that his body language suddenly seem off—awkward even. It took her a moment, but like a Bludger to the skull, she suddenly realized what she'd just walked him into.

"Ohhh right," she said, glancing at the table where Victoire and Whit sat—the latter of whom now displaying body language almost identical to Jack's. She turned back to him. "Did I forget to mention…?" She gestured in the general direction of the table without outright pointing at Whit.

"You're as subtle as a slap to the face, Nic," Victoire muttered.

Jack's expression didn't change, but it didn't have to. Dominique could see the discomfort in his eyes. Jack and Whit had dated in the past—for about a year. They'd had a quite a relationship and seemed sweet together—until they didn't. It had been right around the time Dominique and Henry had started hooking up that Jack and Whit were calling things off, so the details she knew were a bit hazy. She did know that the break up had been acrimonious, which was strange considering they were both such nice, laid-back people.

Originally, they had come to a mutual agreement that they just weren't working out, but it wasn't until later on that everything got bitter. Mostly because—months after the fact—Jack snogged a girl that Whit had suspected him of having feelings for back when they were together. That one act seemed to reaffirm to Whit that she'd been right all along, whereas Jack thought she was mental for getting on his case well after their break up. It had been nothing but snark and dirty looks ever since.

"Did you want anything on your toast?" her mother asked, seemingly oblivious to the elephant in the room.

'No, I'm fine," Jack said with a pinched smile. "In fact, Nic…" He gave her a look. A hard look. "We should really get going."

"Just one more minute," her mother said, waving her hand as if to say it would be quick. "You need to eat. Who knows when they'll feed you."

"They're not going to starve us, Mum."

Jack took a deep breath and let his eyes travel to the ceiling, as if doing his best to look anywhere but at the table. Whit had taken to looking out the window, and if the air wasn't so thick with awkward tension, it would have actually been fairly funny to see how deliberate the two of them were trying to actively ignore the other.

"So, I heard Louis and you had quite the night," Victoire said to Jack, attempting to cut the air. Despite being Whit's best friend, she'd always been cool with Jack—even after their split. She didn't have a choice really, considering he practically lived in their home and was still a constant feature here. They usually did a good job of planning around when Whit or Jack would be here to avoid run-ins, but as today showed it didn't always work out. "I take it he didn't come back with you?"

"It's before noon, so no," Jack said, his tone clipped but polite. "You know your brother."

"Little bugger was supposed to help me move today," she said, standing from the table to walk to the sink. Whit stood as well, as if ready to exit the second Victoire did. She hesitated moving, seeing as Jack was blocking the exit she clearly wanted to take.

"It'll be such a quiet week around here with only Louis," her mother said, right as the toast popped up. It was almost as if Dominique could feel—just with the simple act of toast popping—the tension in the room dissolved. "That is, if he is around. With Victoire leaving, and Dominique at camp—"

"Oh, is your camp thing this week?" Whit asked, directing her question solely onto Dominique and making sure the entire room knew this. She wasn't good at subtly either, apparently.

"Yeah, the Quidditch Trials," she said, watching as he mother charmed the toast to butter itself. "Starts today. That's where we're headed."

"How...fun," Whit mumbled, her sarcasm not lost. Whit had never liked Quidditch and had only ever tried to show an interest in it during her time with Jack. These days, it was as if she used Quidditch as a metaphor for their relationship—frequently referring to it with disdain and annoyance whenever the topic was brought up.

"Should be," Dominique said as her mother finally finished with the toast.

"Is that where Durrin went as well?" Whit asked, addressing Victoire. When she nodded, Whit also absently nodded. "The last I saw him, I was telling him how that much Quidditch would be my nightmare."

Jack made a breathy sort of noise, almost as if he was stifling a laugh, but said nothing. Whit apparently hadn't caught it since she had no reaction.

"I don't even remember the last time I saw a match."

"I could wager a guess," Dominique said, smirking at Jack. He returned it with a cold stare as her mother handed him toast. He said a quick thank you before giving Dominique a "_can we go now?"_ look, already turning to leave.

"Dominique," said her mother, looking her up and down. "Please make good choices."

"I always do."

Her mother's expression showed she didn't seem to agree with that, but she didn't follow up with anymore suggestions as she turned to walk Jack out. Dominique glanced back at her sister and Whit, the latter of whom was exhaling deeply and throwing Victoire a look similar to the one Jack had just exchanged with her. She heard Victoire whisper, "You weren't supposed to be here until noon." Her voice returned to normal as she rounded on Dominique, adding, "Have fun at the Trials. Don't be dumb."

"Words to live by," Dominique said.

Her mother was standing by the open door, which Jack had already let himself out of. She looked to be bidding him goodbye as Dominique gathered her bag and broom. Her mother had turned to watch her, clearly waiting for a hug.

"Be safe," her mother said, embracing her. "I love you. Your father loves you. When you get back, remember, we're turning right around and going to France to visit everyone, so you'll be very busy. Good choices."

"I know," Dominique said, remembering how hectic the last few weeks of her summer were proving to be.

"We'll see you in a week. In one piece, correct?"

"I don't think you could handle two pieces of me." She smiled. "And I love you, too."

She stepped out the door, where she saw Jack standing ten feet away, finishing up his toast. She turned back to her mother and said, "Make good choices," which made her smile, and trekked out after Jack.

"Fanks for dat," he mumbled with his mouth full.

"At least you got toast out of it," she said, before adding, "You ready?"

He nodded before Apparating on the spot. Dominique followed suit only to reappear in Hogsmeade, just outside the Three Broomsticks Pub, seconds later. Jack was already looking up and down the scantily filled street, as if searching for something. There weren't many people out and about at this time in the morning.

Dominique shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other. "Why do people even take the train once we can Apparate? Seems like a waste of time. Maybe I'll do that this year. Just skip the train. You know?"

Jack hummed, but he was clearly still annoyed as he started walking away from the center of town in the opposite direction.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I forgot she was there."

"You forgot she was in your kitchen?"

"My mind is elsewhere this morning," she said, trailing one step behind him. "Wait, is this the way we have to go?" When he didn't answer and continued walking, she added, "But, yes, I did forget. I wouldn't have sent you in there without warning had I thought about."

"I was sort of hoping now that she'd graduated that I wouldn't have to run into her anymore," he muttered. Despite seemingly having a lot to say on the subject, he rarely talked about Whit except to reaffirm the fact that he didn't do anything wrong and if she couldn't see that, it wasn't his fault. For the longest time, Dominique had thought it was strange that he didn't just slag her off and let her have it—but that was before she knew what it felt like to be on the broken side of a relationship. Now that she did know, she understood. She and Jack both held those cards close to their chests.

"Once Vic moves out, you really shouldn't have to," she said.

Jack finally slowed to allow her to catch up. "Before that party earlier this summer, we'd actually reached a point where we were cool again. I wouldn't say friends, but we could stand in the same room together."

"Yeah, but you snogged Kenley, you wally. Of all the girls…"

"Why did it matter?! We weren't together!"

"Yes, I understand that," Dominique said, knowing full well he'd never cheated on Whit. The truth was, while Kenley—their Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team—was a flirt, that's all she really was—all talk. Dominique had been around the Quidditch practices that Whit was so convinced were the scene of the affair, and she had never seen any evidence to back up the claims. Plus, she trusted Jack's word. He'd never been a liar.

"It was _months_ after the fact. _Months_," he repeated. "I wasn't thinking about my ex. Why am I supposed to stop doing things because she's cooked up some ideas in her head?"

"You don't," she said, "but perhaps if you want to avoid the drama—"

"Yeah, sorry, but not going to let her dictate what I can and cannot do," he muttered, stopping to point up ahead to the end of the street where two waiting figures stood. This was the quiet end of Hogsmeade, a place where the shops were more specialized and less likely to attract random foot traffic. It would be a rare sight to see people standing around unless they were waiting for something particular. "I think that's Mike and Ellibit. That must be the spot."

"Yeah, it's them," she said, quickening her pace as Jack kept up. Once they closed the gap between themselves and the people at the end of the street, her suspicions were confirmed as the two Hufflepuffs turned and acknowledged them.

Ellibit Collins and Michael Ellison were seventh-year members of the Hufflepuff team—one of their Chasers and their Keeper, respectively. Ellibit had been playing since her fourth year while Michael had made the team in his fifth. They were average out on the pitch, but there was nothing particularly memorable or remarkable about their skills. They'd both been passed over for captain in favor of a then fifth-year who was really the only skilled player on their team. Hufflepuff hadn't put together a great team in years. They were due, but Dominique knew that this wasn't the year they were going to do it. The other three teams were too strong.

The two were also a couple and had been for two or three years now—Dominique didn't keep track; she just knew it had been awhile. Rumor had it that Ellibit had been offered the captainship last year but refused it on account of not wanting to upset Michael. Another rumor said Michael had gotten it but turned it down because he felt it wouldn't have been fair to Ellibit who'd been on the team longer. There was even another floating around that they'd got skipped entirely because the Professor Fletchly—the Defense Against the Arts professor and Head of Hufflepuff—didn't think they'd be able to lead effectively since they were so attached to each other. Dominique didn't really believe any of them, and suspected that the fifth-year was probably just a much better choice than either of them.

"Hi!" said Ellibit brightly as they approached, spilling some of her hot drink onto the floor in the process. "Wondered when someone else would get here."

"We got here really early," Michael said, looking less excited than his girlfriend.

"I thought we were running behind," said Jack, walking over to shake Michael's hand in a casual manner the way boys tended to. He greeted Ellibit with a quick hug before turning back to Dominique, who just lazily waved at everyone. She wasn't a social hugger and no one expected her to be. While Michael and Ellibit generally didn't bother her like the majority of her Quidditch peers did, she still wasn't friends with these people the way Jack was. One of the many apparent reasons he'd been made captain of their team over her.

"So, we're waiting for the Slytherins and Ravenclaws," Ellibit said with a bouncy energy about her. Dominique immediately wondered how many cups of coffee she'd had.

"My money's on Slytherin being here last minute," Michael said.

"Maybe the Ravenclaws will oversleep and skip the whole thing," Dominique offered, making her tone purposely sound optimistic. "That'd be nice."

All three of them grinned. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw's rivalry was no secret. Henry has been a Ravenclaw, and their drama aside, Ravenclaw had been the team that stopped Gryffindor from getting into the finals last year—a particularly bitter moment for Dominique considering Henry had been their captain. Given her hot-head and mouth, her history with Ravenclaw was not pleasant—particularly with their Seeker—Henry's best mate, Griffin Giggleswick.

"I'd have thought you guys were getting along better now since you and Davies were together," Ellibit said.

"_Were_ together," Dominique said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Past tense."

"Oh, shit," Michael said. "That's…" He faltered, "well, that's something."

An awkward silence fell over the group, which Dominique actually didn't much mind. She'd have rather stood there in silence than make small talk with people she really didn't feel much like talking to. It never played out that way though; someone always had to fill the silence with random, bullshit chit-chat.

"I can't be the only one who thinks Ravenclaws going to be weaker this year," Ellibit said to no one in particular. "I mean, they lost Brighton and Davies, which are two thirds of their Chasers. And they're left with Baileymoore, who was always their weakest link."

"Yeah, but they've still got the best Keeper in the school in Madden," Jack said, catching Michael's eye as he said it. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean..."

He shrugged, clearly not offended. "She a phenom. I wish I had her stoppage numbers."

The Quidditch lover in Dominique wanted to point out that they also still had Giggleswick, who was actually the only Seeker in the school who she found to be a challenge, but praising Giggleswick out loud would be something she'd never do. At the thought of this, the sound of popping made her and the others turn to look down the street. It was as if they'd been summoned like the demons she suspected they were. Ansel Bailymoore and Griffin Giggleswick, both of whom were now making their way toward them. She turned away, not wanting them to think for a second that she was giving them any more of her attention than she had to.

Ansel Baileymoore was a mediocre Quidditch player, but he was exceptionally clever and got top marks. A prefect and rule follower, he was probably second in school only to Louis. While the announcement for Head Boy hadn't been made yet, Dominique knew that any other year and against any other person, Ansel would likely have it in the bag. But, this year he was up against Louis Weasley with his near perfect marks, who'd already sat four N.E.W.T exams as a sixth-year, and whom everyone loved—peers and professors alike. Ansel might be the only person still delusional enough to think the Head Boy title may be his. He didn't really associate with the other Quidditch boys much—Henry had often called him boring and lame—so Dominique didn't dislike him for her usual reasons; but he did resent Louis and often talked shit about him to anyone who would listen. That was why she didn't like him.

Then there was Griffin Giggleswick, her biggest rival in Quidditch—in life. They'd both been playing the same position for the same amount of years; they had out-caught Snitches and entirely ruined matches for the other at least twice a season since their third years. They'd called each other every scathing name in existence both on and off the pitch; they'd both gotten detention in classes for letting their Quidditch angst spill into the classroom. Beating him specifically brought her more joy than any other player she knew. The last few months have been especially strange since—while he was never nice—he'd clearly held back insulting her much of the time due to she and Henry being together. But those days were over now.

"'Lo," said Giggleswick in an obligatory sort of way, just as Baileymoore nodded politely. "We're not last, then?"

"Still waiting on the Slytherin P.I.C.s," Ellibit said.

"Told you they'd be last," Michael said, his eyes now scanning the clear morning sky.

Giggleswick looked at Dominique for a moment, but his expression was unreadable before he turned and followed Baileymoore off and away from the group. Perhaps it was too early for words between the two of them now, but they were due. Dominique could hear the pair talking, but she was probably being paranoid to assume it was about her. Then again, she may be naive to assume it wasn't.

The silence was back again, but so was Ellibit's bouncy, anxious nature. She couldn't have let this go on for much longer. Dominique could practically see the gears in her head turning as she searched for a topic.

"It's a bit funny how each house not only has two people participating this year," she finally said, "but other than those two—" she gestured to the Ravenclaws who were talking amongst themselves— "everyone else is pretty much part of an Old Married."

Dominique stared at her. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. What was she on about? Jack was already looking at her, as if readying himself for her to correct this gross misuse of Quidditch terminology. He knew her well, because she could not let this slide.

"You and Mike—or me and Jack, for that matter—cannot be an Old Married. Or a P.I.C. Only the Slytherin girls."

An Old Married was a slang Quidditch term for teammates that worked so well together, it was as if they were an old married couple. It—along with P.I.C.s— which stood for Partners in Chasing and everyone pronounced like the word pick—were almost exclusively designated for pairs of Chasers who used each other to function as one unit. Old Marrieds could also be used between Beaters who managed to work effortlessly as a team, but Seekers and Keepers worked solo. It did not cross over to different positions and, thus, did not apply to any of them.

"Not _technically_," Ellibit said, "but in my opinion, it can mean a more generalized partnership."

"But that's not…" Dominique began, noticing Jack was already motioning for her to let it go. Perhaps he didn't know her as well as he thought because she did not just let things go.

"It's evolved as a term," Ellibit continued. "Mike and I work so well out there together—"

"How do you figure?" Dominique asked. "He's a Keeper and you're a Chaser. You don't even have anything to do with each other."

"You have your definition and I have mine."

"You can't just make up definitions," said Dominique, but now Ellibit had stepped away to apparently address the Ravenclaws.

"Hey, Griffin and Ansel, would you consider me and Mike an Old Married?"

Jack took the opportunity to step closer to Dominique. "Bit early to be starting shit, isn't it?"

"You know bloody well that's not what those words mean."

"Let her have it."

"No. Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's spreading false information. That's why."

"Don't you have to be Chasers to be an Old Married?" asked Giggleswick, sounding rather bored. "Well, I suppose Beaters, too. But he's a Keeper and you're a Chaser, so...no."

"Great, now I have to agree with Giggleswick," Dominique mumbled to Jack.

"Everyone's so literal," Ellibit said, rolling her eyes and walking back over toward Michael to presumably sulk. "I've heard people use it to mean two people who work well together."

"Words have meaning," Dominique said as a popping sound indicated that there were more arrivals nearby. She glanced down to see two characteristically female figures walking in their direction.

Michael let out a clearly aggravated sigh. "Who fucking cares? Let's drop it."

"I'm not the one going around asking people to back me up," Dominique said, feeling suddenly challenged. If he wanted it dropped so badly, why not turn that tone onto his girlfriend?

"Nic," Jack said quietly. "Forget it. Don't let it..."

"You're incapable of not having the last word," Ellibit said rather boldly, her arms crossed over her chest. Dominique was a little surprised. There was a time not so long ago that she could make Ellibit cower with just a look.

Giggleswick laughed from somewhere behind them. It was a deliberate laugh that Dominique knew she was meant to hear. She turned around and glared at him. And so, it began.

"Shit, here we go," Jack muttered, taking multiple steps in the opposite direction as a means of escape.

"Something funny?" she asked.

"Just you," Giggleswick said, as casually as if he was talking about the weather. "She's right, you know. Always have to take things too far."

"No one asked you," she said. "No one ever asks you anything."

Out of the corner of her eye, Dominique could see the Slytherin girls slowing their pace as they approached. They seemed to sense something was happening and were now unsure how to proceed. One of them said, "Looks as if we missed something."

"Or we've missed nothing if it's only these two and their usual shit," said the other girl. "It's not even nine o'clock."

"Do you enjoy being impossible?" Giggleswick asked her. "Is there anyone here who you haven't had a problem with?"

The group was silent again, although this time it wasn't that pleasant kind of silence Dominique craved. She wasn't entirely surprised considering she had actually had some sort of issue with every one of them at some point. To be fair, with the exception of Giggleswick, it was all Quidditch related and mostly forgotten about after the match. She supposed Jack was an exception to that too, but they were friends and he was the only one there she actually cared about. They were bound to butt heads over years of being friends.

It was Jack who broke the silence this time. "The same could be said of you, Giggles. You've started shit with everyone here. And what happens out on the pitch should stay out there."

Giggleswick laughed again. "You should tell her that. She can't leave anything anywhere because she's petty. Shit, didn't she not speak to you for weeks after you made captain? Definition of petty."

Dominique wanted to say it had been longer than that—closer to months, actually—but she didn't since that would prove his point. And yes, she had been upset Jack had gotten captain over her; it had devastated her, actually. And yes, she had blamed him for a long time and barely spoke to him except for when absolutely necessary. These things were all true. But she'd come around and gotten over it. That had been ages ago.

"How about you don't worry about my business?" Jack said, now sounding annoyed.

"Just fuck off, Giggleswick," Dominique said, stepping toward him, her wand hand twitching with an anxious anticipation. "You want to come at me, but you're as bad, if not worse. You're a shit starter and an arsehole. Plain and simple."

He didn't flinch. "And you wonder why Henry chucked you."

For reasons unknown to Dominique, she froze as if she'd been petrified. Her chest felt like someone had kicked it as hard as they could. She was naturally a fighter, a reactor, ready with a comment or a curse. But for the first time in her life, she had nothing. Every thought had slipped out of her head and every ounce of energy had drained out of her muscles. She couldn't do anything but blink as anger and emotion swelled inside her.

Someone muttered, "That's not cool," but it was quickly drowned out by Jack, who practically shouted, "Seriously!? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Calm down," said someone else who Dominique couldn't place; all the voices other than Jack's blended together now. In front of her, a strange and almost slow-motion scene played out. Jack had stepped forward while Giggleswick had turned away. At the same time, a tall, dark, willowy girl appeared and filled the empty space between, her hands up as if to stop anyone from crossing some invisible line she'd created. She was the one speaking. "Our Portkey leaves in four minutes, so everyone stop."

"Always the same thing, year after year," said the other girl who had stepped forward to join the first. She was the polar opposite of her friend with her fair hair, pale skin, and short stature. "Weasley and Giggleswick fight, then everyone else gets caught up in their drama. Repeat again and again."

"And here comes the commentary of Erin and Zara," Giggleswick muttered, "who can't ever just mind their own fucking business."

Zahara Zabini, Zara for short, and Erin Tanner, the Slytherin Chasers. They were both the best in the school at their positions, and true P.I.C.s —actual Old Marrieds— and also the best of friends. Erin scored more than any other Chaser last season, while Zara came in a very close second. Zara was more than well aware of her talents, and wasn't modest about the fact that she was a stellar Quidditch player as well as a good student. She was beautiful and had a natural grace about her that people were always enchanted by. She was practically the queen of Slytherin these days, which suited her just fine. Erin on the other hand, while fantastic on the pitch, was rather average in most other ways. She did have a sharp tongue that Dominique had gone up against a time or two, but they mostly left each other alone. Unlike Dominique, she didn't hold grudges—she simply told someone off and moved on.

"How can we not?" Erin snapped back. "You two always make your shit everyone's business."

"Erin, stop," said Zara, throwing her friend a silencing stare. "Everyone, stop. You can all kill each other when we get to the training facility. Once I don't have to share a Portkey with any of you."

"Speaking of which," Erin asked, "who has the bloody thing, anyway?"

Everyone seemed to be looking at the next person, waiting for someone to volunteer information as to where their Portkey was. No one spoke up.

"Seriously?" she continued. "You've all been standing around here bitching and moaning, but none of you bothered to find out how we're supposed to get where we're going?"

"We all got the same information you did," said Jack, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. "If you don't know, why do you think we should?"

"Well, aren't you also in a delightful mood," Erin said, giving him a once over. "Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

Dominique physically bit her tongue to keep herself from flying off the handle. She'd done enough talking for one morning and had nothing else to say to these people. Beside her, Jack sunk down into a squatting position as he began rubbing his eyes. She had seen him do it on the pitch when he was especially frustrated. "This fucking morning…"

"Language, Mr. Ians," said a new voice that took everyone by surprise. Heads and gazes shot in the direction of where a woman with long dark hair and wearing a long, dark cloak—despite it being a rather warm August morning—stood smiling at the group of them. It was Professor Fletchly. How she had arrived undetected was anyone's guess.

She stepped forward, her smile distant. "Need I remind all of you that you will be representing Hogwarts as guests for the next week? I would hate if any of you decided not to put your best forward."

"Sorry, Professor," Jack said, standing back up and straighten out.

She turned her smile on him before letting it travel around the group. She seemed to be mentally tallying each of them. "Seems as though everyone is here." There was a murmur of "Yes" and "Yes, Professor," which seemed to appease Fletchly. She held out a box she'd been holding—a shoebox by the looks of it—and handed it to Dominique, who happened to be standing closest to her. "Excellent. Glad to see you're all on time. As I was saying, you are all student guests at the Trials, so we expect you all to be on your best behavior. Once you arrive," she checked her watch, "which will be in the next minute, you will be greeted by a liason from the Department of Sport. He or she will have any answers to any questions you may have." She stopped and looked around the group. "I suggest you all gather your things and take hold of the box right now."

Without hesitation, Dominique held the box out with one hand and clutched her broom with the other. In what would normally be considered completely invading one's personal space, everyone crowded around her and attempted to get a finger or a hand on the box. Someone's broom handle was nearly poking her in the eye while someone else's backpack slammed hard against her arm. She could not have asked for a worse group of people to be sharing such a tight space with.

"Ten seconds," came Fletchly's voice. "Everyone hold on or you will be left behind."

"Someone needs to make a choice to start showering in the mornings," said Erin, though there was no time for anyone to react, for in the next second they were pulled by an invisible force out of Hogsmeade and to the unknown location of the Trials.


	4. The Boring Dorm

There were yelps and exclamations of surprise all around that made Dominique wonder if any of these people had ever taken a Portkey before. She was mostly an expert these days, having traveled by one to visit her mother's family in France for as long as she could remember. She was well aware of what to expect—the sudden pull, the spinning, and the inevitable hard landing. After about ten seconds of travel time, the world quickly came back into focus as her feet slammed into the ground. She had braced herself and landed upright, though all around her everyone other than Zara, Erin, and Ansel tumbled awkwardly to the ground.

"Portkey, much?" Ansel said to Giggleswitch, reaching a hand out to help him up. "You're supposed to bend your knees on impact or else you get swept up."

"Not all of us have rich families who take them all over the bloody globe on holiday," Giggleswick mumbled, brushing himself off.

Dominique considered that as she reached a hand out to help Jack. She didn't think it was a wealth issue as much as it was a culture thing. It was known the Baileymoores were pure-blooded; the Zabinis as well. Erin's family wasn't as obvious, though being in Slytherin was generally a good indicator that your family lineage tended to be a more magical than not. Dominique came from a long line of pure-blooded wizards on her Weasley side. Her Delacour side was a bit more mixed, given that there was Veela in their bloodline, but Veelas were still magical beings. It depended on who you asked—and what sorts of prejudice opinions they held—to whether she was considered pure-blooded these days. She didn't care either way what people considered her, but her long wizarding heritage did reflect that she'd been brought up in a very particular way that newer magical families weren't accustomed to.

But it hadn't been about money. Sure, the Baileymoores had month—they were notoriously wealthy; full of Wizengamot members and influential people in high places at the Ministry. And Zara and Erin were also well off, though as with most kids from deep rooted Slytherin families, no one was really sure what most of their parents did. After the war, many of the Slytherins sort of disappeared in order to distance themselves from the Voldemort connection. Once they started resurfacing, there was a lot of mystery surrounding their lives.

However, Dominique's family wasn't wealthy. They weren't poor, but they weren't rolling in Galleons either. Her father had grown up poor—the oldest of seven—and his habits were reflective of that. He liked to save and didn't overspend—something he had always hammered home to she and her siblings. It was in direct conflict with her mother who had come from money. She worked hard and liked to indulge on occasion; she didn't like cheap because she felt you spent more replacing junk than simply investing in quality. Still, even with growing up relatively in the middle of rich and poor, she'd still taken loads of Portkeys in her life.

"I think I broke my bum," Michael groaned, rubbing his backside as he stood from the ground.

Ansel cleared his throat. "You're supposed to bend your knees—"

"Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time," Michael muttered. "Next time maybe let us know before?"

"Where are we supposed to go?" asked Ellibit, glancing around at their surroundings. They were in a wide meadow surrounded by large hills, though they weren't alone. All around them, people arriving by Portkeys were landing in groups every few seconds. There had to have been at least a hundred other people at the moment clamouring to gather their brooms and bags-and more were arriving by the minute. They all seemed to have a better sense of what to do than any of the people Dominique had traveled with.

"People are walking that way," Jack said, pointing to a caravan of sorts that was headed over one of the hills. "And there are people over there looking official."

"Yeah, the red robes," Erin said, and Dominique noticed a group of men about twenty-five yards away in bright red robes with the letters IQA on the back. It was safe to say they probably had something to do with the International Quidditch Association.

"Might as well follow the crowd," Giggleswick said. "Someone can ask—"

"Hogwarts?" asked a voice, and when they turned, a smartly dressed young woman with tortoiseshell glasses stood tentatively examining them. She wasn't dressed as if she was from IQA; she actually looked as if she'd never played Quidditch a day in her life.

"That's us," said Zara stepping forward as their apparent self-appointed group leader. Dominique didn't suspect anyone would fight her for the role. It was very much in her personality to act as if she was in charge of some made up position.

"Perfect," said the woman, "Sorry, I'm a bit late. Madhouse around here this morning with everyone arriving. I'm Kimber McLaughlin. I work for the Ministry in the Department of Sport, not the IQA, but we work very closely together for this event."

The group hummed and made general noises of acknowledgement before Ellibit asked, "You were in Hufflepuff, weren't you? I recognize you."

"I was," Kimber said, her face lighting up. "Yes, I graduated two years ago."

Dominique's ears perked at that information. "You were in the same year as a friend of mine. He was a Hufflepuff. You know Ted Lupin?"

"I do!" she said. "Lovely guy. Dated a friend of mine back in school. They're not together anymore."

She smirked. "You don't say?"

Kimber had turned back to Ellibit. "Buy yes, I remember you as well. You were on the Quidditch team."

Jack leaned over to Dominique and quietly mumbled, "You think?" which made her grin. Erin had heard him as well, and while she didn't smile, her eyebrows rose in a quick manner as if to say she agreed that was a dumb comment.

"I have a question," Giggleswick asked, raising his hand as if they were in the middle of class. "Where are we?"

"Oh," Kimber laughed, despite nothing being funny. "Classified information. The IQA likes to keep their locations secret every year."

"Why?" Dominique asked. She genuinely could not understand why a bunch of people playing Quidditch had to be kept so hush-hush; particularly since you could pay to attend. It didn't seem particularly exclusive.

"I'm not quite sure," Kimber said, "again, I work for the Department of Sport, so we're not privy to all the decisions the IQA makes. Rumor has it we're around Germany, somewhere outside the mountains, but again, I don't know. Anyway, we're behind on time, so if you will follow me, we can get you all checked in."

The group gathered their things and followed Kimber in the same direction the rest of the crowd. She was a talker and seemed to feel the need to dictate every step with some sort of commentary—including telling everyone where rocks on the path were to avoid stepping on them. Dominique could only hope she wasn't saying anything too important, because as soon as they came to the top of the hill, she'd stopped listening entirely.

Before them, a huge compound had appeared. There were several buildings all grouped in one area—many small ones and about five taller ones—but what really stood out were the dozens and dozens of Quidditch pitches. Green grass as far as she could see. In the center, the largest of all—a proper arena set up with seating for spectators. It was magnificent.

Dominique wasn't the only one who'd been awed by the size of the compound before them. Everyone around her was staring wide-eyed at the display. Michael actually said the words, "Bloody hell, that's huge," and Ansel added, "It looks like I was always told."

"Yes, it is impressive," said Kimber, smiling as she let them take a moment to take in the sight. "Consider this your home for the next week. Do you see those taller buildings? Those are the living quarters. I can already tell you that you will be in the first dormitory, Dormitory A. That's where they board the student athletes. It's also where invitation athletes board. Dormitories B, C, and D are for returning athletes. E is for staff and trainers."

"We're in the boring one," Dominique heard Zara whisper to Erin. "Everyone's told me that anything fun happens in the other dorms."

Kimber had started walking, again resuming her endless commentary about everything and anything. "The best part about Dormitory A is that it's quiet and allows for you adequate resting time, as well as proper space to study."

"Study?" asked Michael. "What do we have to study?"

"That," Kimber said, smiling again, "will be addressed during your orientation later on this morning. I'm not trying to delve too much into the Quidditch details of the Trials. I'd like to focus more on housing and getting you settled."

"We have to study?" Jack asked Dominique, though she didn't seem entirely surprised. She seemed to remember someone—maybe Henry—mentioning something about a book that needed to be completed. He hadn't made a very big deal about it, so she assumed it wasn't that bad.

Kimber led them down the rest of the path, which had suddenly bottlenecked at the bottom with everyone attempting to enter the compound at once. Kimber apparently had some pull to bypass the queue, because after showing a badge to one of the many IQA wizards manning the entry point, she was waved through. She motioned for everyone to follow her.

Everything inside seemed so busy and crowded, with very little room to move around. Red robed wizards were shouting at everyone to keep moving left to pick up any and all housing needs; not to crowd the entryway; to please keep walking. Witches and wizards were loudly reuniting and hugging friends, and some were arguing with IQA employees over missing or incorrect information. Others were clearly already on holiday and didn't have a care in the world.

Kimber had pushed them all through the crowds and out into a courtyard of sorts beyond the entrance. Dominique noticed that they were standing in the center of a circle of buildings. The dorms on one side, smaller buildings on another, and a large and long building directly in front of her. The Quidditch pitches would be directly behind that long building if she remembered correctly.

"Right," Kimber said, laughing a little nervously. "Didn't lose any of you, did I? No? Good. Welcome to the Square." She gestured around. "This is where anything that doesn't directly take place on a broom is located. Over there," she point left, "dormitories." She then pointed next door, "That is the commissary, where all your meals will be provided. It is open all day and night."

"We can eat whenever we want?" Giggleswick asked. "Even two o'clock in the morning?"

Kimber nodded. "Lots of athletes have very strict schedules when it comes to eating and working out, so they're here to accommodate that."

"Wicked," Giggleswick said, grinning at Ansel who returned it with an identical smile. Dominique rolled her eyes. That would amuse them. Though, she had to admit, it was nice to know.

"Next to the commissary," Kimber continued, "we have the medical building. You would go there for any issues or injuries. Beside that, the larger buildings, those are the offices of the officials. Bottom floor is the auditorium where your orientations will be held, but otherwise you shouldn't need to visit there. Unless you've got a problem that cannot be solved by the various IQA employees who will always be around. It's also where you would go if you were to be dismissed from the Trials for behavior issues. It's where you'd find us—the Department of Sport—as well as representatives from all the other attending countries."

She'd paused. "Let me see, who else is in there...Oh! Right. If for some reason you chose to leave camp early, the Portkey officials are also located there. You would have to go and schedule one and it will take roughly twelve to twenty-four hours to acquire, but sometimes you can get lucky and hitch a ride on someone else's Portkey. Hopefully, it won't come to any of that.

"We've taken care of everything for you. Once I get you your orientation folders, you'll see everything from assignment times to dorm assignments are already pre-planned. The Department of Sport takes our student athletes and their safety and comfort very seriously. This can be a very overwhelming event for a first time visitor. Now, if you all will just wait here, I'm going to go and grab your folders. Lucky for you, you don't have to wait in those endless queues since," she laughed in a self important way, "I happen to know some people."

Dominique and Jack shared a look as Kimber turned and headed back into the massive crowd.

"I'm over this tour," said Erin. "I just want to put my stuff down, have a look around on my own, and get out on my broom."

"There's still orientation," Michael said, but he didn't sound excited about it. "Then, I heard we have seperate orientations for our positions after that. I'd be surprised if anyone even sees a pitch today."

Dominique groaned. For a Quidditch training camp, there was very little Quidditch so far. Today seemed like an endless day of paperwork and listening to people who felt more important than they were. She didn't sign up for this.

"All I know is that they've gone and stuck us in the boring dormitory," Zara said, using her broom as support pole.

"They're not going to stick a bunch of school kids in the party dorms," Ellibit said, her gaze—-along with everyone else's—now staring at Dormitory A.

"You just have to go to the other dorms if you want to get fucked up," Giggleswick said with a shrug, as if he was some sort of expert. "Personally, I'd rather live in the quiet dorm and go out to the loud ones. Can you imagine if they put you in D?" He let out a low whistle.

"What happens in D?" asked Ellibit, though Dominique wasn't entirely sure of the answer to this question either. She knew the other dorms could get wild after hours, but was there one in particular that went harder?

Giggleswick laughed a little. "If you have to ask, you don't want to know."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Really with this cryptic shit?"

"Alright," said Kimber, having appeared rather suddenly with several folders in her arms. "Now, let's see." She awkwardly attempted to shift the folders around in order to read them, but was clearly struggling with the cumbersome load. "I've got a Zabini here. Zabini? Oh wait, how'd I get to Z first? This must backwards."

"That's me," said Zara, stepping forward while handing Erin her broom. "I'll take it. Would you…? Do you want me to do that for you?" She gestured to take the folders from her.

"Oh," said Kimber with a shrug. "Sure. I'm sure you know your friends far better than I do."

"Absolutely," said Zara with mock enthusiasm, taking the stack from her with a wide smile. Once she turned away to face the rest of them, she dropped the act immediately. She looked directly at Dominique. "Weasley."

She walked over to take her folder, absently listening as Zara called out "Tanner," while handing Erin hers and then "Ians" while handing Jack his. She immediately tore into it, examining her itinerary from top to bottom. General orientation started at eleven, then lunch, and from there, they were split into position orientations as Michael had said. The following day, everything started at eight in the morning with a pitch number already assigned. Everything from her breaks to her meal times to her evaluations were scheduled to the minute. Her week was completely packed with Quidditch. This was more like it. This was the most beautiful schedule she'd never seen.

"Thank Merlin for that," she heard Giggleswick say, which caused her to glance up. Had he noticed something about the Seeker's schedule she hadn't? She wasn't about to ask him, but she'd wondered if she'd missed something.

"Yeah," said Ansel. "Happy to not have to room with any of them."

Dominique looked back down at her folder and flipped through the pages past the itinerary. The last page was room assignments and information about her departure home in six days time. She was in Dormitory A and apparently in room 112, though with whom she had no idea.

"Who'd you get?" asked Jack, who had appeared at her side with his attention still on his folder. "To room with, I mean."

"Not sure," Dominique said. "Room 112? Who'd you get?"

"I'm in 114 with Mike," he said, a look of relief sweeping over him. "Thank god. I'd have bludgeoned myself with my own bat had I got Giggleswick."

From several feet away, Erin's hand suddenly shot straight up into the air. "Excuse me, Kimber, is it? I have a question. Can't we switch roommates? Or is this set in stone?"

"It is Kimber, yes," she said, her tone not as chipper. "And no one is checking on that. As long as everyone has a spot, then I don't see why not."

Without missing a beat, Erin immediately walked directly over to the space that fell in between Dominique and Ellibit. She looked from one to the other and then back again, sizing both of them up. "Who's in 112?"

Ellibit immediately looked at Dominique, who simply shut her folder and sighed. She shouldn't be surprised she would have gotten placed with Erin. Why would anything be easy? They didn't call this a trial for nothing.

"Of course you are." Erin said after Dominique didn't bother to answer. "Look, do us all a favor and switch with Zara." She paused for a long moment before adding a dry and unenthusiastic, "Please."

"Do us all a favor?" Dominique said. "Other than you two, how is that a favor to anyone?"

Erin stared at her. Dominique could sense a hundred different responses that she had ready to go, but she was now in a precarious position of having to play nice in order to get what she wanted. Silence really was her only option at this point. Everything else would come off as complete bollocks.

""Now," Kimber suddenly said, "If you follow me, I'll walk you over to the dormitory. You've got time before orientation starts, so you can settle and unpack." She immediately turned on the spot and lead the way to Dormitory A.

Erin was still staring at Dominique as the boys were now steps ahead and right on Kimber's heels. Only the girls lagged behind, all of them seemingly waiting for this to play out. Dominique knew she was damned if she did and damned if she didn't. Her options were either to be stuck with Erin, who would probably attempt to make her week as obnoxious and uncomfortable as possible if she didn't switch; or she was stuck with Ellibit, who was currently looking utterly annoyed at the idea that she would have to room with Dominique if she did switch. She was clearly still sore about their spat earlier in Hogsmeade, and she seemed like the type that would stew in that anger for the entire week instead of just letting it go. Also, Zara, unlike Erin, would probably make for a decent roommate, so Ellibit was losing out entirely.

Ultimately, Dominique knew Ellibit would end up being nothing more than cold and snippy if they had to share a space for a week. She may even simply not speak to her at all. Erin would make it her personal goal to make things hell for her. She'd probably enjoy it.

She sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care."

Erin finally smiled, turning to Zara, who was also smiling. It was Zara who said, "Thank you!" Just as Erin added, "You're in 113 now. Thanks!"

"Fantastic," Dominique mumbled, glancing over at Ellibit. She had said nothing, but her expression wasn't happy. She begrudgingly grabbed her bag and quickened her pace to catch up with Michael.

Dominique hung back, already well over this morning. She could only hope that once she got away from these people she could go back to feeling excited to be here. Looking around, there were hundreds of other people here. She had to remind herself that while she was here with her classmates, she didn't have to deal with any of them—except for maybe Giggleswick—once they were split into their groups. There were plenty of other people here.

Up in front, Jack had stopped to wait for her. He threw her a small smile as she approached, but she couldn't muster the energy to return it. "I hate all of these people."

"I know," he said. "It's a lot to deal with all of them this early in the morning. Hell, I was ready to punch Giggleswick in the face for you back there. I just assumed you'd do it."

"I froze," she said, still not quite understanding what had come over her earlier and why Giggleswick's comment about Henry had caused such a reaction in her. She'd never felt anything like it, and she hoped to never feel anything like that again. She wished she hadn't seized up, because now Giggleswick knew it was a weak spot for her. She'd let him see that and now he would take full advantage. Worse yet, he'd probably tell Henry how just bringing him up had shaken her. Naturally he'd embellish the story, tell him how she broke down and hysterically cried; went absolutely mental. Terrific.

The group was led into the large building, which looked to be six of seven stories tall. They were immediately greeted by a large common area that kind of resembled the Gryffindor common room if it had been stripped of all color and life. Lots of brown sofas and neutral-colored comfy chairs. Scattered tables around the room and large rugs covering the hardwood floors. It was bland and boring, and given everything Dominique had heard about this dorm thus far, it seemed rather apropos. They clearly didn't want people spending too much time indoors.

"And this is where I'll say goodbye," said Kimber, adjusting her glasses on her nose. "Your rooms are down that corridor," she pointed to one of two corridors, "and everything you need is in that folder I gave you, or in the books you'll receive at your orientations. Anyone in an official red robe can answer your questions and there will always be someone here in the dorm if you need something. Otherwise, have an amazing time here. It really is an experience."

"Thank you for your trouble," said Zara, speaking for everyone once again. "You've been very helpful."

There was a small murmur of agreement, though the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had already turned away toward the rooms. Dominique honestly would have done the same if Kimber hadn't been standing directly in front of her path to the corridor. She mumbled a quick thank you before side stepping her and following the rest of the group. Ansel and Giggleswick had already made their way halfway down and stopped outside a room that they were now attempting to open. Michael and Ellibit were loitering just beyond them, looking as if they were having a very pointed discussion. As she got closer, Ellibit practically pushed Michael into her.

"Hey," he said in an awkward tone, glancing at Dominique and then at something behind her. "So, I...we," he nodded to Ellibit, "we were thinking."

Jack appeared behind Dominique, just as the Slytherin girls brushed past the lot of them, giggling happily as if they were pleased to finally have escaped and be on their own.

"They said they didn't really care about who's in what room," Michael continued. "So, we were hoping that maybe we could work it out so me and Ellie could be together. I mean, it makes sense, you know?"

Ellibit, now standing behind him, had put on a very optimistic smile. Dominique genuinely didn't know if this was an actual attempt to shack up with her boyfriend for the week or a chance to be rid of her. Seemed like a win for her either way.

"It's nothing against you guys," Michael added. "I mean, this also keeps all the house teams together, which is…" He glanced at Ellibit, "good for team building."

Dominique laughed and made no point to hide it. What a load of bollocks. Was he listening to himself?

"If you want to be with your girl," Jack said, sounding tired, "just spit it out. We all know what you're playing at." He turned to Dominique. "I don't care if you don't. I want to put my stuff down."

She hesitated for a moment, thinking about the conversation she'd had with Sarah the night before. About that little, latent crush on Jack that always surfaced after she'd been drinking. Some really dumb choices could be made if certain pieces came together-and rooming together might make attempting the correct choice a little harder to make. Her mother's words of "make good choices" now seemed more pertinent that ever.

Shit.

"I'm tired of being passed around," she finally said, feeling as though there really wasn't a good way out of this. Her saying 'no' made no sense to anyone but herself. "Someone just needs to tell me what room I'm in."

Jack pointed across the hall. Without another word, she walked over and pushed open the door to the empty dormitory room. There were two beds and two small dressers, and that was it. That was all there was to greet them. It was startlingly bleak in there. A single window with the shade pulled all the way up let in what little light was creeping in from the non-existent, brick wall view.

"Well, this is nice," Jack joked, taking in the room in the room as she was. "Sort of has an asylum vibe going for it."

"Makes perfect sense since this place is driving me insane," she said, walking over to the bed on the right and throwing her stuff down on top of it. "Did you listen to his 'team building' bullshit?"

"Just say you want to shag your girlfriend," Jack muttered, tossing his bag onto the floor before collapsing face down onto his bed. He evidently said something else, but she couldn't make it out with his face down in the mattress.

"I think Ellibit didn't want to room with me," she said, taking a seat atop her bed and pulling her legs up to her chest.

Jack rolled onto his side. "I think she'd planned to switch with anyone she got. I'm telling you, that was their plan since it lets them shag whenever they want. Can't say I blame them."

Dominique inhaled slowly at that, already mentally committing to the promise she made to herself the day before. If she messed around with anyone, it had to be someone she would never see again. That had to be the rule. It had to be. Perhaps avoid alcohol the entire time she was here. Maybe just not look at Jack at all. She immediately turned her attention to the brick wall outside their window.

"Honestly, it's probably better this way, because I have a feeling they'd have gone locking me out of the room anyway. They're always together. I'd have come begging for you to take me in."

Dominique continued to watch the wall. No alcohol. Nope. None. It had to be this way.

"You're sure Davies isn't going to be here?"

She looked back at him as the image of Henry flashed across her mind. Unless something had changed, he hadn't planned on coming last she'd heard. It was pretty common for new school graduates to not attend, either because they weren't good enough to get an invitation back—most common time to get one—and were bitter, or because they were all set to start their new lives and careers, and thus couldn't afford the time off to come. Sure, some still would, but the numbers were always the smallest in the post-graduation year. Henry fit right into both of those molds. He had been bitter he didn't get invited back and he'd just started working at the Ministry.

"No," she said affirmatively. "He knows he's a shitty Chaser—"

"Rubbish," Jack agreed, "I always thought so."

"Sure, you did," Dominique said, rolling her eyes but appreciating his comment nonetheless. "And for the record, I never claimed he was good. He was just an average."

Jack hummed in a doubtful sounding way. "Would we even say average?"

She laughed despite herself. "Anyway, he didn't get an invitation back because obviously no team wants him. So no one would be more shocked to see him here than me. But I'm sure Giggles next door could give you more info, if you really care."

"I don't care at all," he said. "And if that's the case, then I don't have to set any rules. Because banning him from this room would have been the only one I had."

"You were going to ban him?"

"Absolutely. If you wanted to dive back into that, you can go find somewhere that isn't where I plan on sleeping."

"It wouldn't have happened."

"It wouldn't have happened _here_."

"No, it wouldn't have happened, at all. I want nothing to do with him."

"Whatever you say," Jack mumbled, right as someone knocked on the door. They both looked at it, though it was him who called out, "It's open."

It was Michael who popped the door open, poking his head inside. "Hey. You two didn't happen to hear that Ministry woman mention where the toilets were, did you?"


	5. English Boys

At a quarter to eleven, Dominique and Jack emerged from their room and wandered out into the common area. They had talked about exploring the grounds before orientation, but Jack had ultimately decided to take a power nap while Dominique had chosen to simply enjoy a few minutes of quiet after all of the stressors of that morning.

She was an introvert at her core and being constantly around people always exhausted her—especially in new situations. She'd learned to deal with it at school by hiding in her four poster bed with the curtains drawn and, of course, getting out on her broom and away from the world. Here though, there was no escaping on a broom; not when everyone else would be up there as well.

There were others in the common area this time, showing that this building wasn't as empty as she'd assumed. Most of the people were looking as if they also were headed toward the orientation that started at eleven, though she couldn't be sure. They were predominantly young-roughly her age—and Dominique could pick up a few different languages being spoken. A trio of blokes on the sofa were speaking Italian, while a couple on the opposite side were talking loudly in Swedish.

"Hey," came Michael. He'd come up behind them with Ellibit on his tail. They seemed more relaxed than earlier, and even had a glow about them. Ellibit smiled at Dominique, as if all their bickering from that morning was forgotten. That was quick; she'd been sure Ellibit would be more of a brooder. It seemed that whatever they'd done with their downtime had cheered them up significantly.

"Hey," said Jack, letting a small yawn escape him. "You two want to walk down with us?"

They nodded, right as Giggleswick emerged on his own from the corridor. He avoided eye contact with Dominique and Jack, but he did walk straight up to Michael. "Where did they say this thing was happening?"

"In that long building," Michael said, "come on, we're all headed down there." He looked behind Giggleswick, as if searching for something. "Ansel coming?"

"He went out earlier. The Slytherins were going exploring so he went along with them."

Dominique was already bored by this exchange, though it was mostly by Giggleswick's presence; she wasted no time heading toward the exit without so much as a word. The trio of Italian speaking boys from earlier had gotten to the door first, and one made an over-the-top gesture to hold it open for her. He was smiling ear to ear, and his teeth were startlingly white.

She forced a polite smile, feeling strangely exposed all of the sudden; she quickly turned to see if anyone else was coming. Jack and Ellibit were a handful of paces behind, with Michael and Giggleswick behind them. She noticed that the Italian bloke made no point of holding the door for Jack, who had just managed to catch it before it slammed in his face.

White teeth continued to grin at her, and while he wasn't bad looking, she didn't know what to do in this situation. She still wasn't quite used to this sort of attention from the opposite sex after years of essentially being ignored. She'd been a late bloomer mentally, which had affected the way she allowed herself to bloom physically. If she hadn't chopped all of her hair off the summer before sixth-yeah, she probably wouldn't have even bloomed at all.

That haircut had changed everything for her, and she never could have seen it coming. Prior to that, she had been sort of a mess; she could admit to that. She never bothered to brush her hair or do much more than maybe shower—though some days she'd skip that too. Her clothes were always too big for her, and sometimes items she took from Louis. Only her school uniform ever fit her properly, and that was because her mother purchased those and refused to let them be ill-fitting.

Funnily enough, she was actually very pretty, she just did everything in her power to mask it. With a little soap and water, a hairbrush, and the right clothes, she'd always known she could be attractive. She'd absolutely deny it, but she knew it. In her family, it seemed impossible to not be. Victoire had been one of the prettiest girls in school when she was there—with her always perfect looking hair, bright blue eyes, warm smile and demeanor. Louis had been a bit awkward for about five minutes back when they were kids, but he'd grown into what most people considered a complete stud these days. He was tall, with dark auburn hair, the same blue eyes that they all had, and a strong jaw line that Dominique often heard girls at school swoon over.

Their mother had been known for her beauty in her youth, and getting older and a wrinkle or two still hasn't changed much about her. Striking blue eyes, dainty and symmetrical features, silvery blonde hair. Dominique was often told she was the one who looked most like her, yet instead of that exciting her, it had always terrified her. The attention on her looks; the idea of people finding her attractive—it had made her feel anxious for as long as she could remember. It was probably why she tried so hard for years to hide it and make it go away.

Her father had been an attractive man growing up—she'd seen the photographs—but an injury in the war had caused him to become semi-disfigured. A werewolf had attacked him and slashed deep, irreparable gashes into his face. Despite this, he still had friendly blue eyes and the most charming smile. You could tell he was once a very handsome man, it just wasn't apparent at first glance. She found that somewhat comforting. People were forced to confront the ugly and were either repulsed by it, or they ended up pleasantly surprised by what was underneath. And for years, that was the way she chose to live her life. The people that mattered would like her no matter what she wore or said. They'd look past the outside.

But that haircut had changed everything. She hadn't done it for the sake of a makeover—she was simply tired of her hair—but it had done wonders for her face, which now people could see without the rat's nest of hair piled on top. According to her mother, her features now "popped". She had hoped that was some sort of joke, but she did notice that she had turned more heads last year. Even at school, everyone seemed to be giving her a second glance—Henry among them.

She'd already grown it back out to her shoulders because the attention had made her uncomfortable, but it turned out that even with the longer hair, people were still paying attention. Things weren't as they once were because—and she hated to admit it—but because of Henry showing interest, she had started taking care of herself. She'd wanted to be more attractive. Now that he was gone, she was just stuck with the results. It was too late to go back to her lazy old ways.

The Italian boy's friend said something to him that made him turn away, which caused Dominique to slow a little now that she was free of his attention. Maybe she should have smiled back or said something. She couldn't just expect things to happen if she didn't at least make an effort. With a heavy breath, she stopped and waited for her classmates to catch up.

The group of them followed the path toward the orientation hall, where a crowd was gathered and filing into a large auditorium style room. There were at least a hundred chairs—half of which were already occupied with bodies—and a large, raised stage at the front of the room. On that stage were more chairs, some of which were currently occupied by older wizards who were laughing and talking amongst themselves. Dominique thought she'd recognized the older woman with the short bob hair, but before she could quite place her, a woman in a bright red robe pointed at her to follow a queue that had formed at the back of the room.

"We have to pick up our orientation materials," Jack said, stepping ahead to get into the queue. He'd moved just as two other girls managed to barely beat him to the next spot, causing a very minor run-in. One girl, who was petite with blonde hair, offered a quick apology in French for having so quickly jumped in front of him; despite not speaking the language, he clearly understood her tone. After a quick round of polite smiles and silent reassurances that it was no big deal, Dominique watched as the petite girl who'd spoken nudged her friend, who had been silent up until that point. She gestured for her to turn around.

"I think this is the shortest queue I've seen all day," Jack said, completely oblivious to the two girls in front of him who were now watching him. It had only taken a moment, and they shared a quick smile before turning back around.

"I think I read that there are three or four of these orientations, so not everyone comes at once," Ellibit said, learning forward to see where the start of the queue was. By the looks of things, there were only about ten people in front of them. "They've already had one this morning."

Michael cleared his throat in an obvious manner, having also seen the display in front of them. "Jack. Mate." He pointed at the girls.

"What?"

"In front of you."

He turned to look, but the girls were already turned and talking amongst themselves in French. Dominique took a step closer, hoping to eavesdrop a bit since she was fluent. However, they were a bit too quiet to make anything out.

"You should say something," Michael said in a hushed tone. "They were giving you the look." He turned to Giggleswick. "You saw it?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

The girls stopped speaking for a moment and turned around once again, only this time they caught all five faces looking right back at them. The petite girl seemed embarrassed and turned back around, but the other girl—who was taller and had her curly hair pulled up in a ponytail—stood firm. She was pretty. When she smiled— was directed at Jack—it only made her prettier. She glanced around at everyone. "Bonjour."

There was a mixed responses of hellos, though Jack managed a dopey sounding, "Hi."

"Parlez-vous français?" she asked him.

He looked at Dominique, who immediately made a face at him. What'd he want her to do? That was basic stuff. "She's asking if you speak Fre-"

"I know what she's said," he said, "I'm not an idiot. I was trying to see if—you know what? Nevermind." He turned back to the pretty girl and shook his head. "Not really. Do you speak English?"

She shook her head. "Very little."

"Do you really need to speak each other's language?" Michael asked. Ellibit swatted him.

Ponytail shrugged and returned to talking to her friend; this time, Dominique could actually hear their conversation. She must have looked obvious in doing so because once she and Jack made eye contact, he seemed to sense what she was doing. He was now studying her face for reactions.

"_He's cute, but he's English. I've never had a good experience with English boys."_

Dominique let out a short laugh, which made Jack furrow his brown in a curious manner and mouth, "What?" She shook her head and signaled for him to let her listen. She was actually only laughing because Jack was Irish, not English. It was something he wouldn't have let slide had he known what was being said.

"_I usually find them to be boring. But he is cute. I like his accent. And he's tall, but not too tall. Looks like a Beater, if I had to guess."_

"_Definitely. I've always had a thing for cute Beaters."_

"_You definitely have."_

"_The other one he's with are more what I'm used to when it comes to English boys. Dull."_

The other girl laughed, and so did Dominique, which made both of them suddenly stiffen up. One glanced over her shoulder at her, though Dominique forced a cough and averted her eyes elsewhere else in an obvious manner. She would honestly make for a pitiful spy.

"_Do you think she understands us?"_

"_If she did, wouldn't she have said something earlier? When we were trying to talk to her friend? She stood there. If she spoke French, why not say something?"_

"_Maybe they're not friends, maybe that's his girlfriend?"_

"_Do you think so?"_

"_She could be. She's pretty, so I can't see her being with other boys. Unless she's got awful taste."_

Dominique did her best to hide her snicker at that, but this one was hard to disguise. She did have awful taste, but that was another conversation entirely.

"_Do you know who she reminds me of. There's that portrait in the library. In the back room-"_

"_Yes!"_

Petite girl turned and looked directly at Dominique, and this time, she wasn't quick enough to avert her attention elsewhere. She found herself staring right back at her. The girl turned away once more and, in a much lower voice, said:

"_I really think she's listening to us."_

With that, Dominique straightened up and looked directly at Jack, attempting to draw attention away from herself now that they'd figured her out. "The queue is taking forever."

His brow furrowed curiously, just as the girls in front approached a large table and had a short conversation with the man behind it. Both girls were handed books; they took them before Ponytail had a final little smiley exchange with Jack while Petite girl gave Dominique a long look before turning to look for seats. Jack watched them go, and wasn't paying attention to the man in the red robe who was now asking for what language he was most comfortable with.

"English," Dominique said, taking his book for him as the man handed them two copies to take. Jack only seemed to snap out of it once she took his book and thrust it hard into his chest. Ellibit laughed from behind them.

Almost immediately they were met by another woman in red robes who looked at the copies of the books they were holding and then pointed them to the opposite side of the auditorium. Jack seemed slightly disappointed since the French girls had gone the other way, but he did what he was told nonetheless.

"So, wait, what'd they say?" he asked her once they were seated. "What was so funny?"

"Are we still talking about that?"

"Depending on what they said, we are. I think that one girl seemed keen."

"Then maybe you should have asked her what her name was, you dolt."

"I didn't ask her _anything_ because I don't speak French. But you do, and you could do me a favor and tell me if it's even worth my time to try and talk to her again. What'd she say?"

She took a deep breath, but didn't look at him. "They thought you were cute—especially the one with the ponytail. They liked your accent. They were pleasantly surprised because usually, the English boys—"

Jack opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held up a hand to silence him, having already anticipated him objecting.

"Their words, not mine. Apparently they've never heard an Irish accent before or they don't know the difference, I don't know. Anyway, as I was saying, the _English _boys they've met are usually trolls or something. You were a nice surprise."

"Because I'm not English," he joked.

She smirked. "They also figured out quickly that I was listening to them, so they didn't say much more. I think they thought I might be your girlfriend because I didn't help you translate. Apparently, if I wasn't your girlfriend, I would have helped you understand?" She shrugged. "They underestimate how little I care about you having sex."

"I hate you so much sometimes," he said, though he was smiling as he said it. She grinned, turning forward to face the stage and watching as the room started to fill up entirely. Given the various amounts of languages that were clearly in the room right now, she wasn't even sure how this orientation was going to work. The woman with the short bob was standing in the center looking rather important. It was then that Dominique recalled who she was—a famous Spanish Chaser from at least two decades ago called Isabel Cerve. The famous Chaser was now holding wand to her throat; her amplified voice carrying across the room.

"Bienvenidos!" she said before continuing on in Spanish. Dominique looked over at Jack, who shrugged and looked as confused as she did—as most of the room did. Michael was now mumbling something about having come to the wrong orientation.

"Sermonius augeo," Cerve suddenly said, pointing her wand directly out into the crowd. She did it twice more, her wand pointing at different sections of the room each time. Dominique didn't know what had just happened and looked around a little dumbfounded. What charm had that been? Others looked as confused as she felt.

"Is there anyone who can't understand me?" asked Cerve, smiling out at the crowd. She was speaking English now but her lips weren't in sync with her words. It was almost as if she was still speaking Spanish, but the words were coming out in English.

"If not," she continued, "please go to the back and one of our helpful staff members will assist you. That was a charm that should put us all on the same level of communication."

A man, who had been standing nearby, held his own wand to his throat and began saying the same statement over and over and over again in various languages. He said it at least ten times, and Dominique quickly realized that he was speaking to anyone who the charm may not have worked on. Sure enough, a handful of people stood and began walking to the back of the room—Ellibit among them.

"Things are so much easier without the language barrier," Cerve said, pacing around the stage. "It's a newer spell. And before you get too excited and think you will now be able to understand every language for the rest of time, making your holiday travels easier, it does wear off. Most of you will find it will last for the week you are here, but for some of you it may drop sooner. Please come and see us and we'll take care of that."

She seemed to be scanning the back of the room, watching as Ellibit—the last one—had retaken her seat. "Looks as though everyone is taken care of. Wonderful! Shall we begin?" She smiled. "Welcome! I am Isabel Cerve, current head of the IQA and former member of the Spanish National Team. We are always happy to see such a wonderful turnout from so many Quidditch enthusiasts."

There was a round of applause, which Cerve let die out before continuing. "Most, if not all, of the Quidditch greats from the last twenty years have passed through here. And perhaps I'm speaking to the next one right now. A future all-star Keeper or Seeker. Maybe a hall of fame Chaser or Beater? This is the first step."

More applause. Seemed as if these people would clap for anything.

"Now, before I continue, I'd like to introduce some of the people sitting behind me. All IQA officials in their own capacity—leaders in their positions. They are the heads of your position, and you will most certainly be seeing them on the pitch when we begin training tomorrow. " She turned to address the first man sitting on the end—he was enormous with a bent nose and a pocketed face-and Dominique knew whom he was immediately-Kentworth Judge, a renowned Beater. She knew all of them, but she especially knew the grey haired, skinny man on the end with a crooked smile and the smaller stature. He'd been the Seeker for Ballycastle for sixteen years. He was the Seeker on the winning Irish World Cup team in 1994. He was very well known in the British Seeking community.

"And our head of Seekers," Cerve said, "Mr. Aiden Lynch."

Jack smiled, turning it quickly on Dominique. He would have known him too, seeing as Jack was a huge Ballycastle Bats fan. Lynch had won them many a match in his day and become an icon; he'd had his number retired.

Cerve immediately delved into explaining the history of the IQA, the Trials, the importance of doing one's best and achieving the best possible ranking one could. "The rankings," she stressed, "are of the utmost importance."

"They will be issued at the end of the fifth day," she continued. "This will have allowed us to observe your skills during three days of intense practice, as well as one day of heavy match play. You will be awarded a number one through eight—right being the highest and one being the lowest."

She then reminded everyone that while scoring one through eight was the highest observational score they could achieve, the actual rankings topped out at ten. "You might be asking how does one get to a ten or even a nine? Well, the answer to that is currently in your hands."

Dominique looked down at the workbook she'd been handed. Beside her, Jack was fanning through the pages, and she noticed that there was a lot of sheets and forms to fill out. A lot. On Jack's opposite side, Michael could clearly be heard telling Ellibit, "We were supposed to get a break from homework for a few months."

"The workbooks you've received are worth an additional two points on your ranking upon completion. Yes, two entire points. You must have them completed and turned in by the start of play on ranking day. They will be evaluated by IQA staff that day and tallied to your final score by that afternoon. That also means you can't fill the books with nonsense. While every answer need not be perfect, the effort is what will be acknowledged. We often find someone trying to be clever by answering every question with the same word." She shook her head. "That will not earn you any points. Even half work can get a single extra point, so it pays to get this done in your down time."

Dominique wasn't exactly sure when she was going to have the time to do all of this on top of the intense practicing and heavy match play, but two points went a long way in this place. Two points could separate the elite from the average; the average for the poor.

"I should also add that in your position orientations later on today, you will also be receiving additional work to include in your books. It is important this also gets completed."

"Shit," Michael muttered. "Who has time for all of this?" Dominique and Jack both shrugged in a similar manner.

"Now," Cerve continued. "After you have received your final rankings, you will be separated into groups for the final two days of match play. The final, Premier match of the Trials will take place on the afternoon of the final day—and we intend to feature the best of the best. It is a very high profile Quidditch display. Only fourteen people can start and eight extra people will be chosen as alternates. Anyone who is anyone will be watching that match, so securing a spot can do wonders for your future."

Dominique took a deep breath. That was where she wanted to be-the Premier match. It was harder for someone in her position, where there would only be two starters versus a Chaser that would have six. She would have to be top two—maybe top three to secure an alternate spot. She wasn't quite sure how many people here were Seekers, but she could only hope they were mostly here for the fun and partying. The less competition the better.

Orientation wrapped up after that, with more words of warning as to how important achieving a great ranking was and how this experience was filled with distractions and to be careful. "We've never cracked down on the distractions because we know the real world is full of them," Cerve would say in her closing remarked, "and we are looking to separate the weak from the strong. While we encourage you to have a great experience, be warned. Many have fallen victim to the distractions."

After it had concluded, Dominique followed the crowd of people out of the auditorium in a wave. Everyone was headed the same way and either talking about how much bookwork there was or claiming they'd be the one to get a top score. There was a confidence in many of these people that Dominique had to wonder if they could backup. She knew that out of her small Hogwarts' group, only about half of them were worth anything out on that pitch, but someone like Ansel probably thought he was.

They reached a spot outside in the lobby area where Jack and Michael stopped to talk while Ellibit was flipping through her workbook. She was either uninterested in what they were saying or very interested in her book—Dominique couldn't tell. Though, after getting wind of what the boys were talking about, she suddenly had a guess.

"Now that you can understand them, you should go find the cute one who was trying to chat you up," she heard Michael saying to Jack. He was gesturing around the lobby where people were coming and going; some standing around in groups and other headed straight out the doors.

"Should I?" Jack asked, giving the room a once over.

"Yes!" said Michael. "Now that the language barrier is gone, absolutely. Look, mate, I'll help you look." He turned back to Ellibit. "Hey babe, I'll be back in just a few. I'm going to help Jack out. Be right back!"

He didn't wait for an answer and was already turned and off into the crowd with Jack before she could mumble, "If you must." She shook her head and looked at Dominique with an expression that seemed to say "_boys_."

Dominique rolled her eyes. "I do hope he has a plan for what he's going to do with these girls if, Merlin forbid, one agrees to sleep with him." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Because he's not bringing them back to my room."

Ellibit laughed a little, her eyes watching the crowds around them as the auditorium continued to empty behind them. At the same time, it was drawing a new crowd for the next orientation, which caused heavy traffic through the doors. Dominique's stomach rumbled; she was hungry. She was about to ask Ellibit if she thought the food in the commissary would be any good, when she caught Ellibit's eyes growing wide.

"What?" Dominique asked, turning to look. She saw nothing more than people walking in every direction. "What is it?"

Ellibit stepped closer to her, her voice now low for some reason. "Over there. Just by those doors. The one in the dark blue. Do you see him?"

"See who?" she asked. Was it someone famous? She'd heard in previous years that world famous Quidditch players—and sometimes even the legends—would turn up here. She could only hope that one of her favorite players made an appearance.

"Right there!" Ellibit pointed aggressively. "How do you not see him? Ughh, I used to be so in love with him when I was younger. He still looks so fit."

"Who!?" she asked again, though she did finally see a familiar face in navy blue emerge from the crowd. It wasn't a famous Quidditch player, but he had been rather known back at Hogwarts for his nice cheekbones, great hair, ridiculously green eyes, and physique. In fact, the only thing that was really different about him since the last time Dominique had seen him was that he now had very neatly kept facial hair covering the lower half of his face. That probably upset quite a few girls, but Dominique actually didn't hate it. It was the first time she'd actually even considered him slightly attractive because she-unlike _every other female _in all of Hogwarts for the last five years—had never cared much for—

"Stuart Reynolds," Ellibit said in a sharp whisper since he was now headed in their direction. "Do you see him?"

"Yeah, I do," she mumbled, somewhat disappointed it hadn't been someone famous.

"I seriously used to stare at him across the pitch when we played Ravenclaw," she said, somewhat transfixed by him.

"You're still staring at him," Dominique muttered, noticing that Ellibit was tensing up more and more the closer he got to them. Was she holding her breath?

They watched him as he passed. Dominique didn't know him well enough to say anything, and she really didn't care to considering he had been a real dick to Victoire a couple of years back. That was all ancient history now, but she'd never bought into his mass appeal one way or another. He was honestly too attractive. She liked boys who were a little rougher around the edges.

He caught Dominique's eye, as one would when passing, and smiled in a polite, but also incredibly confident sort of way. She'd seen her brother use that kind of smile before, usually on the younger girls at school who stopped and stared and hoped to catch his attention. Stuart had clearly pulled that smile on girls hundreds of times before; it was an effortless move for him and the bare minimum in making some poor sap swoon and moon.

"He just smiled at us," Ellibit said, practically bouncing. "Do you think he remembers us?"

Dominique shrugged. "I did knee Henry in the crotch after one of our matches with Ravenclaw back when Reynolds was their captain. I seem to remember him calling me 'absolutely mental,' so he might still remember me."

Ellibit spun back around to look at her, her expression silently screaming, "_what the fuck?" _but Dominique was unbothered. She was about to remind Ellibit that she very much had a boyfriend since she seemed to have momentarily forgotten that little detail, but she was quickly distracted by a lanky guy with floppy, copper colored hair over Ellibit's shoulder. He made eye contact with her at the exact same time she noticed him and, like Stuart, he smiled as he approached. It wasn't nearly as cool or effortless, though.

"Are you seventeen already, Weasley?" asked Durrin Adams, her old teammate and former captain from school. "I swear, you were thirteen yesterday. And yet here you are." He stopped walking. "Hey, Ellibit."

Ellibit waved just as Dominique muttered, "I'm only two years younger than you. You sound like my grandparents."

"You'll always be that little third-year to me." He smiled.

"It's good to see you." And he sounded as if he meant it. The two of them had a very up and down relationship when he was her captain. She naturally pushed back against much of what he said, and he naturally made her fly laps every single practice because of it. She was sure he regretted picking her for the team a few times, but she consistently caught the Snitch and secured the House Cup for them during her fourth-year. She'd also been the primary reason they'd lost it in her fifth-year, but she never liked to talk about that. But despite their spats, she would always have a certain soft spot for him; if only because he'd chosen her over the others to be Gryffindor's Seeker.

"Good to see you too, Durr."

He gestured toward the auditorium. "I need to get in there," he started stepping away, "but here's hoping we can catch up later. And if you're here, that means Jack would be here too, right?"

She waved her hand aimlessly. "He's around here somewhere."

Durrin threw her a thumbs up before adding, "Hey, did you see Stu Reynolds walk by earlier? You remember him? Lightish brownish hair, got a beard thing now. Some people think he's handsome, but you know, not as good looking as me, obviously."

Both girls immediately pointed toward the auditorium, which only made Durrin laugh for some reason.

"You know, I've never once asked a girl that question and they haven't had an answer for me," he said before turning around and disappearing entirely though the doors. Dominique begrudgingly grinned. She could so distinctly remember hating him at times, but now she genuinely missed him and their team of a few years ago. She'd have never thought that back in her fourth and fifth years, but given what their team had become, that old team could not have been stopped. She'd give anything to have those days back.

"If they haven't found those girls by now, they're not going to," Ellibit said, sighing loudly, noticing that while the entrance was filling with people, the exit was nearly empty. "Maybe I should go look around?"

They had been gone for awhile, and Dominique's stomach was once again rumbling and urging her to get something to eat. The commissary would probably be a madhouse now, and the longer they stood around, the longer the queues would probably be. If there was one thing she was already exhausted by it was the queues. She could only hope that once everyone had somewhere to be following day, they would subside. Today though, everyone seemed to be doing the exact same thing—and they were all queuing up to do it.

"If they're not back in one more minute, I'm going to eat without them."

"I'm going to do a quick walk around the perimeter," Ellibit said. "Maybe they got turned around. This place is huge. Mike's got an awful sense of direction. He still get lost around school."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Dominique mumbled, wondering why she was even waiting around anyway. She barely even liked Mike and Ellibit. Weren't they arguing with each other a few hours ago?

Ellibit had apparently not heard her because she didn't respond. She'd turned off into the crowd and was now scanning faces in search of Michael. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Now Ellibit hadn't bothered to return either. This was dumb. If Jack wanted to look for girls, he could do that on his own time. She was hungry and ready to get out of this building. She wanted to explore the grounds and—

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, which caused her to swing around quickly. She was surprised to find the ponytailed girl from earlier staring back at her. Her petite friend was standing behind her looking apprehensive.

"Hello," said Ponytail, her expression polite.

"Um, hi," said Dominique, though she was about to correct herself when she realized she was speaking English to a French girl. Then she caught herself again, remembering this girl didn't know she could even speak French. But then, catching herself again, now there was that charm from earlier and they could all understand each other. She was starting to question what language she was supposed to be speaking and finding all of this very confusing.

"I'm Vanessa. That's Chloe," Ponytail said, pointing to her friend. "We were the ones talking to your friend earlier."

"I remember," Dominique said, noticing that Vanessa's mouth movements were not matching the words that she could hear her speaking. The charm definitely worked, but it was bizarre to see the French coming out, only to hear English.

"We never introduced ourselves," Vanessa said, looking over at the girl now called Chloe and gesturing for something in her hand. "Difficult when you don't speak the same language." At that, she turned and gave Dominique a very particular look, as if she was insinuating something.

"It...is."

"Sorry, we didn't get your name," the girl called Chloe asked, having just handed Vanessa a small piece of parchment she'd been carrying. Dominique chewed the inside of her cheek a little. If they questioned whether she understood French before, her very French sounding name wasn't going to do anything but feed that hunch.

"It's Dominique."

There is was. Both of their faces now lit up as if their suspicions were confirmed. It was Vanessa who called it to the open. "Dominique? You speak French, don't you?"

"I've been known to on occasion."

"We could tell," said Vanessa, now reading over the piece of parchment in her hand before folding it up. "Next time you should say something."

"Eh, I don't really like talking to people," she said. "I wouldn't take it personally."

Both Vanessa and Chloe made similar expressions and neither seemed to really know how to process that. Vanessa shook it off first and held out the piece of parchment. "Anyway, we looked around for your friend—whose name I never caught."

"You mean Jack."

"Jack," she repeated, her accent pronouncing it Jaques just as Dominique's mother did. She smiled a little after clearly having solved some mystery. "Right. Couldn't find him, so if you don't mind, could you give this to him?"

Dominique didn't take it. She starred at the parchment being extended out toward her for much longer than the girls probably would have expected her too. It was an awkward moment, and both girls exchanged quick glances wondering what was happening. Dominique relished this for some reason; she found it funny. But even she knew when enough was enough, and finally sighed loudly before taking it. "Yeah, fine."

"Thank you," Vanessa said, seemingly relieved. "Nice to meet you."

"Yep," Dominique said, raising the parchment up in a sort of salute. Vanessa had grabbed Chloe by the arm and started to pull her away, but Chloe didn't move. She was still staring at Dominique.

"Can I ask you a question?" Though she didn't wait for a response before adding, "Do you have a twin or something? One whose portrait hangs in Beauxbatons' library?"

Her face dropped. What a strange question. Why would Louis have a portrait in their library? Why would he have a portrait at all? He'd never been to Beauxbatons a day in his life. Even if he had, how would they even put those pieces together and connect her to him?

"I do have a twin."

The girls exchanged curious looks; they honestly looked a little shocked. That had probably been more of a rhetorical question that they clearly hadn't expected an answer to. "Do you really?"

"Why would I make that up?"

"But...how?"

"Because my parents conceived two kids at once. That's usually how it's done."

Chloe laughed at that, but Vanessa still looked as if she'd been startled. "But that portrait is older than you are. It's been there since I started school." She looked at Chloe. "You know is has."

Dominique blinked a few times, having absolutely no idea what the hell was happening in this conversation. "I don't know what you're on about with this portrait stuff, but I can't see why my brother would have one at your school. I mean, give him a few years and he'll probably be running things and have portraits everywhere, but not yet. "

"Brother?"

She nodded. "My twin brother."

"Wait, what?" asked Chloe, sounding confused. They both looked even more lost. "Your twin is a boy?" She shook her head. "No, the portrait is of a girl. She looks like you."

"Just like you," Vanessa agreed. "The resemblance is scary."

"Do you have a cousin or someone who would have gone to Beauxbatons? Someone who looks like you? You obviously have some French in you."

It was as if a Bludger slammed into her head, knocking some sense into this entire conversation. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. So much so, that Dominique had to laugh—rather loudly—which had to have made these girls think she'd gone absolutely mad. It really should have occurred to her earlier, especially given she only knew of one person who'd gone to Beauxbatons that would have done anything worthy of getting a portrait.

"She looks just like me?" Dominique asked, finally composing herself. "I've been told that. My mum went to Beauxbatons and was kind of a big deal from what I was told. Triwizard champion and all that. I guess they gave her a portrait."

"They do that for distinguished students," Chloe said. "There are quite a few around the library."

"Wait, why do you go to Hogwarts?" asked Vanessa. "If your mother went to Beauxbatons."

It was a question Dominique had wondered over the years, and to be honest, no one in her family was quite sure. Yes, her father was English and they'd been born and raised in England, but did that simply mean you went to the school where you were born? What if they'd both moved to Egypt as her father had once wanted to-would they have even gotten a letter from Hogwarts? She didn't know. All she did know was that Hogwarts was where she'd gotten her letter from on her eleventh birthday-much to her mother's dismay.

"I guess because my dad went to Hogwarts."

Chloe made a face, mumbling to Vanessa, "Remind me not to marry an Englishman. I don't want to risk my children not going to Beauxbatons."

"You'd want to stay away from Irish guys too, then," Dominique said. "And speaking of Irish guys, Jack's Irish. Just so you know. You called him English before. Back in the queue."

Vanessa smirked a little. "I knew you were listening to us." She turned to leave, but quickly said, "Nice to meet you. Perhaps we'll see you around. If you're a Keeper or Chaser, we may even see you later."

"Seeker."

There was a silent acknowledgement of that, but at that point the conversation was evidently over as they strolled away across the lobby. Dominique looked around. No one was left now. The doors to the auditorium had closed and the next orientation had apparently begun. Where the hell were Jack and others? She hadn't moved, so how did she get left behind?

She glanced down at the parchment in her hand and unfolded it. There was a name and a room number scribbled on it. She rolled her eyes and folded it back up, shoving it into her pocket. They had better not have left her behind and gone on to eat without her. She'd eat this stupid piece of parchment if that was the case.


	6. Black Cloud

The rest of that first day seemed to drag on for ages. It was an endless parade of listening to people talk about Quidditch, but no one actually playing it. She'd been forced to listen to speakers discussing the fundamentals of the sport, the changes in modern times and how they affected the sport, the elements of Seeking that truly set it apart from other positions, and essentially everything a large and dusty old Quidditch textbook could have taught anyone. If she'd wanted to take a class on Quidditch, she would have.

She never did find Jack or the others and ended up spending the rest of her day on her own. Once she'd given up looking for them, she'd walked to the commissary to find something to eat, though as expected, the place was absolutely packed with people. She couldn't have found someone she recognized if she'd tried—though truthfully, she didn't try. She was annoyed with all of them and happy to be alone.

She'd grabbed the first plate of food that looked appetizing and retreated outside. It was there that she'd found a shady spot to enjoy the warm weather. As she ate, she felt her mood mostly improving. Perhaps it was because she'd distanced herself from the massive crowds and her nerves were resetting to normal. She didn't know how people did it; how they could walk into something as large and as overwhelming as this place and feel relaxed. The sorts of people who could talk to anyone, make friends with anyone, and not be completely overwhelmed by the thought of meeting new people.

She'd never been that person. Even when she'd arrived at Hogwarts back when she was eleven, she hadn't needed to deal with those situations because she'd never been on her own; she'd always had Louis. He had no problem walking into school and meeting people, making friends, being social. He thrived in those situations and had always let her tag along. His friends slowly became her friends; his adventures became hers.

It had taken her years—until she'd made the Quidditch team-to create an identity outside of her brother's shadow. While she may have constantly taken the piss on him for being "the Louis Weasley," the truth was, she didn't know where she'd be without him. As she sat under that tree, feeling rather alone, the reality of her having to forge her own path now that they were adults was becoming more real to her.

Henry had also popped into her head while she ate, though she didn't know what made her think of him. Her mood dropped as she wondered what he was doing and whether he ever thought about her. Probably not. Why would he? After all—how had he put it?-everything they had was a matter of convenience. Nothing more. Dickhead.

After lunch, she'd walked around and explored—venturing outside of the busy center of camp and out toward the rows and rows of pitches. The grass was almost an otherworldly kind of green and smelled as if it'd been cut recently. Everything was meticulously cared for. The rings were clean and free from any weather damage, unlike the ones at Hogwarts. The grass was cut in such perfect rows that it was clear it was someone's specific job was to make sure everything was exact. She'd had given anything to be out there at the moment, soaking up this amazing day and these perfect conditions. Being so close, yet so far, somehow managed to dampen her mood even further.

At about a quarter to two o'clock, she walked back into the center of camp and returned to the massive auditorium building. It was different now, as if the building was alive and somehow capable of changing its layout. Instead of one large room, there were multiple; each labeled with signs stating the various positions. The Chasers room was the largest by far, spanning more than half of the building, but the other positions' room were equal in size. It was at the end that a large sign displaying "Seeker" hung above an entrance way. This was evidently the place she needed to be.

She'd arrived early this time—she had nowhere else to go—and as with their first orientation, there was a man in a red robe standing with packets of parchment pages at the ready. When she was asked her name, he checked a list to see if it matched. When it did, he handed her the pages and advised her to keep them in her orientation book; they would count toward her final ranking. The pages slide in perfectly, though they didn't seem particularly secure. She could deal with that later.

At the front of the room, the first row had few occupants. They were mostly alone, as she was, though she chose to avoid the row entirely and take the aisle seat in the second row. She immediately opened her book and pretended to look busy; feeling both keen to talk to someone, but also uninterested in anyone speaking to her. She knew it was strange to feel both alone, but also tremendously annoyed by people, but that was typical for her. It made sense to her.

Right before things were set to begin, she chanced a look around the room. It was almost full now, and she even spotted Giggleswick in the queue to collect his pages. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd been up to since leaving their first orientation. Had he been keeping busy? Had Jack? All the others? If she had gone back to the dorms, would she have found them there? Even Ellibit and Michael felt like welcomed company at the moment. Not Giggleswick, however. Never him.

Before she turned back around, another face in the crowd suddenly stood out to her. It belonged to Annabelle Paige, the Hufflepuff Seeker who her sister had mentioned was also attending. She was making her way to a seat with two other people, all looking as if they were having a breezy conversation. She had curly dark hair that she'd always kept at shoulder length at school, and apparently still did now that she'd graduated. She hadn't changed much at all.

Dominique watched her as she sat, though at the exact same time, Annabelle happened to glance in her direction. They locked eyes immediately and Dominique could sense familiarity in her expression. Annabelle didn't seem to remember exactly who she was, but she smiled at her in a curious manner and waved awkwardly.

If she was expecting a wave back, she was mistaken because Dominique instead jumped in her seat, startled at being caught watching. She did manage some sort of awkward facial expression that she hoped resembled a smile-she honestly wasn't sure-but quickly spun back around in her chair to face the front. Very smooth. There was no way she hadn't looked like a complete fool.

"Good afternoon," said a booming voice that rang throughout the auditorium. "Welcome, welcome to all of our Seekers!"

Aiden Lynch stood at the center of the stage, his wand at his throat to project his voice out into the room. Behind him, several other individuals had walked out, all taking seats in chairs that had been provided. Dominique recognized each one of them immediately, but kept her focus on Lynch.

As far as Seekers went, he really had been top notch in his day. She knew he'd retired from the sport about a decade ago, but he'd been the most successful Seekers in the British and Irish League during his playing days—and probably top in the world at some point. When he played, there were few who were better, though he had come up against one of those few in that famed World Cup match in '94. He'd gone head to head against the legendary Viktor Krum in that match and lost the Snitch to him. Ireland had ultimately won the match, which certainly saved Lynch a load of flack from the fans.

Dominique would have loved if Viktor Krum had been here, but he was still playing professionally and far too busy to be visiting training camps. She'd met him once—her mother and he were close friends, which was actually rather hilarious. Her mother wasn't interested in Quidditch in the least, yet was friendly with one of the best Seekers to play the position in the last fifty years. They had competed against each other as teenagers in an event called the Triwizard Tournament and had bonded and stayed in touch over the years. Quidditch wasn't something they ever really spoke of, though Krum did seem greatly amused that she had a daughter who loved Seeking so much.

She'd been about ten the last time Krum had come around their house, and she'd been terribly, terribly starstruck. Instead of talking to him, she'd chosen to hide in the kitchen and chance awkward glances at him out in the sitting room when he wasn't looking. She didn't even speak more than two words to him, and her mother had to be the one to ask him to sign her Quidditch card for her. She still had that card.

"Now," Lynch began, smiling at the room. "We're all well aware of the importance of a good Seeker on any team. The backbone. The problem solver, if you will..."

He proceeded to carry on for a half an hour about the importance of Seeking, which even Dominique found boring. He may have been a Hall of Fame Seeker, but he was a painfully dull speaker who used the word "Terrific" far too much. She'd already returned to scribbling answers down into her workbook; it wasn't until he finally began introducing the people behind him that she bothered to look up.

"First we have Coach Malu Abreu," he said, gesturing to a woman with a rather impressive resting bitch face. "Hall of Fame Seeker and former starter for the Portuguese National Team. World renowned for her incredibly diving capabilities.

Please began to clap as he continued on the line. "Coach Hortensia Wagner." He gestured to an older looking woman. "The highest scoring Seeker to date in German Quidditch history. Beside her, Coach Nikolas Ahlgren, member of the Swedish National Team, though he spent many of his playing days in Britain playing against me. Almost beat me a few times. too." They both shared a laugh at that, as if it were some sort of private joke. "No, but honestly, they call him the Hawk for a reason. He can spot a target with speed and accuracy that only few can."

There had been a continuous round of applause for each of them as Lynch moved onto the final man sitting upon the stage. He was younger than the rest, by over a decade at least, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors. Tanned with jet black hair, his entire demeanor screamed that he'd rather be elsewhere.

"And lastly, Coach Marco Sabatino. A wunderkind at Seeking who at only twenty-six has broken records left and right in his home of Italy. You may have recently seen him on the Italian National Team in the last World Cup."

Dominique grimaced a little. Marco Sabatino was a phenom of modern Quidditch, that was true. His speed could not be touched and, as a rookie, he'd broken every single record a rookie could. That being said, she'd been at that World Cup and it had easily been the worst performance of his professional career.

He'd looked sloppy and slow, completely unlike his reputation. He hadn't caught the Snitch, Italy had lost, and the press had a field day blaming him. Despite returning to regular play and absolutely crushing it, she'd heard he was still plagued by hecklers and the occasional death threats. She'd read he'd recently had some unexplained health issues and was placed on a temporary leave. It would explain why he was here instead of playing. It would also explain the look of utter annoyance that was all over his face.

After introductions, Lynch let each one of the coaches speak. They all proceeded to lecture directly on their areas of expertise, and had begun laying out clear guidelines as to what they expected in the following days. They first four spoke for ages-especially the one called Wagner-though when Sabatino finally got his time, he spoke for all of ten seconds. His comment was, verbatim, "I do not tolerate tardiness. If you are going to be late, don't bother coming." He then turned and sat back down.

Lynch jumped back up rather hastily after that, having clearly expected something more. "Alright, then. Terrific! With that, I feel we can wrap up. We start bright and early tomorrow, so please rest up, eat well in the morning, and be ready for this amazing experience to begin."

More applause as people began to slowly stand and gather their things. Dominique didn't dawdle for a moment once they were excused. She was tired from sitting, she'd already reached the exits before the applause had died down. She tore across the courtyard; more than happy to walk straight back Dorm A as fast as she could.

The common area was bustling with people now. It seemed that with the language barrier broken, everyone was getting on with one another. She spotted Ansel talking animatedly in the corner of the room to some girl, while Zara was entertaining a group of people on the sofa like a queen holding court.

Dominique quickly pushed her way through the crowd; finally making it down the corridor that led to her room. When she pushed the door open, she was actually surprised to find it empty. Jack was nowhere to be seen, and by the looks of things, he hadn't been back to the room since earlier that day.

"You're back!" yelled Ellibit from across the hall. She had left her door propped open and was sitting atop an unmade bed. "I was wondering when the rest of the orientations would let out. The Chaser one ended a good half hour ago."

"Good for you," Dominique mumbled, tossing her book onto her bed before turning back to her. "Where did you go earlier?"

Her face fell. "I came back. We all did. We looked for you. But that building is so confusing. Did you know the walls can move? They're like the staircases at school. I can see why the boys got lost."

"Did you find them?"

"Not at first, but I looked for ages." She stood up from her bed and came to the doorway, now leaning against the frame. "I walked outside and they were there. They assumed we would come out eventually and they'd catch us then. We went back in looking for you, but you were nowhere to be found. The lobby was empty."

"I never moved."

She shrugged. "We figured we see you at the commissary, but it was a-"

"-complete madhouse."

"Right. We were at a table near the center. We kept an eye out for you. Jack said he knew you'd turn up because you'd mentioned you were hungry. We must have missed you."

"I went outside to eat," she said as more people started coming down the corridor, returning to their rooms. She and Ellibit watched them pass one by one, some smiling as they strolled by but most full of energy and seemingly ready to jump out of their skin. Dominique was about to turn back into her room and perhaps prop her door open as Ellibit had when Jack appeared from around the corner. As soon as she saw him, she found herself suddenly conflicted. One one hand, she was annoyed with him for ditching her earlier and leaving her on her own all afternoon; on the other, she was so happy to see him.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" he shouted in a playful way when he saw her, though she did nothing but glare at him after deciding she was going to let the annoyed side win. As soon as he was within feet of her, his tone returned to normal. "Seriously, I looked everywhere for you."

"I never left where I was supposed to be," she said, stepping out of his way so he could enter their room. "You're the one that ran off."

"I didn't run off, I got lost." He sounding tired as he set his book down on his bed. "Where'd you end up?"

"Walked around by myself until I had to go to that Seeker meeting."

"Was your meeting as dull as mine?" he asked. "Mine spent a good thirty minutes on illegal bats and their effect on Bludger trajectories." He made a face. "Thirty. Bloody. Minutes."

She smiled despite herself; probably her first genuine smile since earlier. Dammit. But after her day, it was nice to have a friend that she actually wanted to be around. She felt as if she were soaking up sunshine after sitting in a cold room all day. Something about having that kind of contact was energizing for her.

"Mine wasn't much better," she said. "Lots of talk of angles and speed ratios, but I sort of expected it."

"Came close to putting me to sleep," he said, checking his watch. "You hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Then let's get dinner," he said, glancing out the still open door and across the hall into Ellibit's room. "Hey Ellibit, is Mike not back yet?"

She shook her head. "Who knows what's holding up the Keepers' meeting."

"Right," he called back over across the hall, "We're going to get food if you want to come." He then immediately lowered his voice to barely a whisper that only Dominique could here, "but you won't because Mike's not here."

"Thanks, but I'm going to wait for Mike," she called back. "Maybe we'll see you down there."

"Cool," Jack called back in a dismissive way, before gesturing for Dominique to head out. "Better it's just us anyway. I know you managed to escape everyone today, but I need a break from people."

"Am I not people?"

"That's different," he said as they walked the corridor back toward the common area. "Anyway, I've already had a break from you. Sure, it's quiet at first, but Quidditch and you kind of go hand in hand for me. It's strange when you're not around."

"You're so full of shit," she said, laughing as they passed through the common area. The room had mostly cleared from earlier, though there were several stragglers still hanging about. Probably people waiting for the Keepers' meeting to end.

"I was being serious."

She turned to see his face, waiting for him to laugh or break or show any signs of cracking-but he didn't. He looked completely sincere. She didn't know why, but that comment hit her like a train for some reason. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to her lately; after a shitty couple of weeks, and a particularly rubbish day, it was exactly what she needed to hear. She felt rather teary-eyed and she didn't know why. She had to bury that. That couldn't surface.

"You ok?" he asked as they walked out into the cool evening air. The sun was on its way down, and an orange and purple glow painted the sky and bounced off the grass that seemed to cover every inch of this place. She was now especially focused on studying those blades of grass as a means of keeping herself distracted from the stinging in her eyes.

"Fine," she said, fighting off the lump in her throat and attempting to stay one step ahead of him at all costs. "It's been a long day. I'm tired."

"Yeah, this place is exhausting and I haven't even broken a sweat yet." His strides suddenly got longer as he managed to keep pace with her. He had turned to look at her, but she hadn't had time to avert her face. His tone suddenly grew concerned. "But seriously, if something's wrong-"

"What would be wrong?" she snapped, and she even surprised herself by how sharp that had come out. If he would stop asking questions, she wouldn't have to go on the defensive.

"You have been going through some stuff lately," he said. "You seem a little…"

_Don't say sad. Don't say down. Don't say off._

"You haven't seemed like yourself."

She forced a laugh. "Trust me, I'm still every bit of me."

"I just noticed after this morning," he continued. "After that thing with Giggleswick. Where you froze up when he brought up-"

She held her breath. _Please don't say his name. _

"Davies."

She exhaled hard. _Fucking aye. _

"You know," he said as they drew closer to the commissary, "you're allowed to be upset about it."

"Gee, Jack," she said, her tone laced with mock enthusiasm, "Thanks for your permission."

He sighed. "I'm only saying that I get it. When Jane and I split up, I was a wreck for a while. But shit, I let myself deal with it. You're trying to act as if nothing ever happened and that you weren't with him for-"

"Right, I get it," she interrupted. "Everyone is 'just saying' this and 'just saying' that. Sarah and my siblings, even my own bloody mum keeps saying I should talk about it, but I don't want to, alright? We didn't even have a real relationship."

"Why do you keep saying that? It seemed real to-"

She turned to look at him, even with her eyes now stinging. "Because it wasn't. It was two people who fucked around. Nothing more. I was stupid to ever think so. I mean, can you seriously compare what he and I had to any of your relationships? To Louis and Sarah? To anyone?"

"But every relationship is different."

"Fuck," she stammered, stopping just outside the commissary doors. "Can we not?" Her voice cracked. "I don't want to talk about him. It's been a shitty day and I just want to…" She stopped. She didn't even know what she wanted to do, but she was once again fighting off tears. Her eyes were welling-in public-which only made her feel like crying more due to how embarrassed she suddenly felt. Crying in public was her definition of the lowest she could go. She closed her eyes and turned away.

To his credit, Jack didn't harp on the matter. Had he stared at her like some people would, or even if he'd tried to comfort her, she would have lost it. She'd have hated him. She'd have gone and found a hole to die in. But he didn't say anything; he didn't do anything. But he also didn't go anywhere. She didn't know what he was doing for those few quiet moments, but when she did finally open her eyes and wipe away a few stray tears, she found him leaning up against a nearby wall, absently people watching.

She swallowed hard, feeling more composed-albeit embarrassed. "Can we just…?"

"Whatever you want," he said, making a quick movement toward the door to pull it open. He held it for her, and with a slight nod, she passed him to enter.

Inside, it was absolute chaos once again, but this time she was happy for the distraction. She was starting to think that this was the reality of this place; that mealtimes were always going to be hectic and hellish. It didn't make much sense to have a magic auditorium that could change its size and was scarcely used, but then have a commissary that was used multiple times a day and couldn't fit half the camp.

"There's nowhere to sit," Jack said, standing up on the balls of his feet to scan the room.

"Let's take it outside," she said, squeezing through the crowds of people in an attempt to make her way up toward the counter area. She was hoping one of these days, she'd get a chance to look around and properly find something she actually wanted to eat; instead she once again grabbed the first thing she got a hand on. This time, it was a bowl of rice with chicken and some vegetables on top. That seemed as good a choice as anything. Might as well keep it simple.

Jack had followed her and grabbed the same thing, whether because it was what he wanted or because he had the same idea she did. It took them ten minutes from start to finish to grab everything and make it back outside to where the sun was setting properly now. Somewhere in the distance, Dominique swore she heard some deep bass music.

"We could take this back to the dorm," Jack offered, though she had already gone and placed her stuff down under the same tree as earlier.

"I'm not a big fan of eating where I sleep," she said before she sat. "Is that weird?"

"We could eat in the common area."

"Then I'd have to talk to people."

"Am I not people?" he said, mimicking the same tone she'd used earlier. He grinned, thinking he was funnier than he actually was before he sat across from her.

It was actually a lovely night. There was a certain feel to the air that made Dominique wish she was at home-or maybe she wished she were at home for other reasons. Still, evenings like this made her want to take her broom out and fly around until the sun disappeared entirely. If the moon was visible, she could stay out for probably an extra hour or so. It would have also been a good night for a bonfire on the beach just beyond her house. That may be what Louis or Victorie were doing tonight; they did it all the time in the past.

"Do you hear that music?" she asked, tucking into her dinner.

Jack nodded, his eyes scanning the line of dormitories not too far off in the distance. "I think it's coming from D Dorm? Apparently, some wild shit goes down in there. I overheard someone in my Beater meeting saying that you could die in there and not be found for days."

"That sounds like a load of bollocks."

"I never said I believed it," he said, taking a large piece of broccoli into his mouth and struggling momentarily to chew it. "Jus' vut I 'eard."

"I don't even understand why they have a 'wild' dorm," she said. "Why is that even a thing? How do you even end up there?"

"It has something to do with rankings from the previous year," he said, having swallowed. "They group those people together. It's why we're in A. We're unranked. B and C are all the middle ranked people because that's where most people end up, so they take up the most space. Then D is where all the low ranked people go. They're the ones who aren't here to compete, just to...who knows? Get wrecked, I guess?"

She considered that. It made as much sense as anything else she'd heard. "Who told you that?"

"Zara and Erin. I ran into them before our afternoon meetings and it seems as though they'd gotten the whole lay out. They seem to have this place all figured out."

Dominique hummed, digging around her bowl for some chicken. She remembered seeing Zara earlier, already having found a niche with new people. It was like that at school as well—people gravitated toward her. She'd probably have the whole place as her new best friends by the end of the week.

"Shame I missed out on all of that after everyone ditched me," she said, stabbing a piece of chicken and then popping it into her mouth.

"No one ditched you," he said. "But, you know what? If it makes you feel any better, I never did find those girls. So, it was a waste of time."

She stopped chewing, suddenly remembering exactly what she had in her pocket. She'd honestly forgotten all about it until this minute. With a slow movement, she reached inside and pulled out the piece of parchment she'd been handed earlier, noticing that it had gotten considerably wrinkled throughout the course of the day. She inhaled slowly, feeling as if that paper felt rather heavy all of a sudden. She wasn't even sure she wanted to give it to him, but he'd probably run into those girls again; they'd probably tell him that they'd given her the note. She'd have to find an excuse as to why she never got it to him.

She reluctantly held it out for him to take.

He wasn't paying attention. He'd just put food into his mouth and was silently chewing as he stared out across the Square toward the loud music. She cleared her throat, catching him with his fork in his mouth. His hands were full, so it took him a moment to situate and free up a hand. Once he had, he pulled the fork out and examined the parchment. "What's this?"

"You're welcome."

"What is it?"

"Would you open it?"

He did as he was told, unfolding the parchment. She watched him read it, his face confused at first, but slowly she could see the realization hit him. "Is this…?" He sat up straighter and looked directly at her. "What is this?"

She picked a carrot up out of her bowl and took a loud bite. "Again. You're welcome."

"How did you get this?"

"I won't reveal my secrets. But," she shrugged, "you should have stayed put."

"You actually..." He smirked at the paper and then at her. "You actually did this." He started to laugh. "I've been spending my time with the wrong Weasley all these years."

She smiled, but cocked her head curiously to the side; her expression silently urging him to explain what he meant by that.

"You're just much better at this than Louis. See, with him, girls go and fall for _him_. I might as well be paint drying on the wall. They don't even pay attention. He means well, but…" He shrugged.

"Some girls pay attention," she said, though he was barely paying listening at that point. Instead, he was inspecting that piece of parchment one last time before finally pocketing it. He'd returned to eating and she'd turned away, letting herself watch the sun disappear entirely behind a building. Her mood felt more sullen now, and it seemed her recurring black cloud was back now-as it often was in the evenings. She was starting to get used to it.


	7. Ornery Bludger

"Did I tell you that I saw Durrin earlier?" Dominique asked later on as they finished up their dinners, having no interest in continuing their conversation about the note or the girls who gave it to him.

"Did you?" Jack asked.

She nodded, setting her bowl down beside her onto the ground. "I did. He was heading into orientation after us. Guess he's here with Stuart Reynolds. He was looking for him."

"Yeah, they were always friends."

"He asked about you. I told him you were around, so you may run into him."

"I hope I do," he said, taking another large bite. "I don't know about you, but I miss those days. Especially that team we had fourth and fifth year. That was a great group."

She grinned a little. "I thought the exact same thing after I saw him. That really was a great team."

Now it was his turn to grin. "That fourth year season was unbelievable. I still don't know how we did it. Didn't you catch every Snitch that season?"

She full-on smiled as she sat up straighter and puffed herself up proudly. "Every single one."

"And fifth year was good, too," he continued, "Even with what happened before that final match, it was still a great season."

Her smile immediately slipped off of her face. She dropped her gaze and instead hummed in a noncommittal sort of way. She didn't like to talk about that final match of their fifth year. It was entirely her fault they'd lost that match, and she hadn't even played in it. Her hothead had gotten the better of her and she'd cursed a girl called Colleen in the common room, earning her multiple weekend detentions and a suspension from the match. She'd let her team down. She'd let her house down. She should have two House Cups in her school career, not one.

"Then last season..." Jack mumbled, now stabbing his fork into his bowl hard enough to put some poor vegetables out of its misery. "Even if we did manage to turn it around in the end, last season was a fucking mess."

She still said nothing, but she agreed. It had been a mess. They hadn't even made it into the final match, but it was hard to come back from the abysmal first half of the season that they'd had. They'd first lost Durrin, who Dominique didn't fully appreciate until he was gone. He wasn't even that great of a Keeper—though he was worlds better than his replacement—but he had a way of pulling them all together that made them better. Jack as their new captain had big shoes to fill, and Dominique knew that she hadn't made that easy on him.

She'd only partly done it on purpose; mostly by being petty and insubordinate due to having hurt feelings. It started on the day she'd gotten her annual Hogwarts' letter for her sixth year. She'd been in the kitchen, the last of her three siblings to arrive after their father had called them down to collect their letters. Victoire and Louis had already torn into theirs; they were both prefects again, surprising no one. Victoire had not been made Head Girl—which again wasn't surprising. For as bright as she was, there were at least two girls who worked twice as hard as she did.

Their father—who had been Head Boy himself—seemed to be feigning mock disappointment in her, which caused Victoire to make jokes that if he wanted a Head child at school, he'd have to wait for Louis. The mood was playful and pleasant. Louis was reading over Victoire's book list, already planning on asking Longbottom if he could sit a few N.E.W.T.s as a sixth year—a request that would take a lot of convincing.

Upon being handed her letter, Dominique had momentarily been surprised by the weight of it—or rather, lack thereof. It had been a flash of a thought, for she soon had her answer after opening it and finding nothing more than a list of supplies and books she would have to purchase. There was nothing else inside the plain envelope; no sign of the one thing she'd been counting on since she was a small child who'd learned that it was possible to captain your own team at school.

Her Uncle Charlie, one of her most favorite people in the world and the reason she'd fallen in love with Seeking, had been a captain. Her Uncle Harry had as well, though he'd been pretty much everything there was to be, so it was hard to measure anything by him. Her Aunt Ginny had held the position during her seventh year, after the war. She would go on to play professional Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies; she had always been a personal inspiration to Dominique, as well as one of her biggest supporters. She wanted more than anything to follow in their footsteps and be like them.

But the envelope was empty. There was no badge. No letter of congratulations for being made the newest captain of Gryffindor House. There was nothing.

All around her, everyone else was still talking in cheerful voices and making plans to go to Diagon Alley later in the week to pick up new supplies. But for her, right there in that kitchen, her world was crumbling. It was all hitting her at once. She didn't get it. She wasn't the captain. She wasn't anything. She was...nothing.

"How's Thursday work for you, Nic?" asked her father, though she had no idea what he was referring to. Her stomach was flipping inside of her; her heart clenched in a painful manner. Emotion was overcoming her every sense. She looked up from her letter and at her father, whose smile vanished when her saw her face. "Nic, what's wrong?"

Louis and Victoire had turned to look as well, and the pressure of all those eyes on her made her immediately turn and run out of the room. If she hadn't wanted to the drama and the questions, she probably should have attempted to silently excuse herself, but she'd never been a rational thinker in the heat of the moment. She then spent the rest of the afternoon having her door knocked on and pestered consistently by her family members asking what was the matter. One of them must have eventually figured it out on their own, since the line of questioning quickly turned from asking what was wrong to consoling her for not getting the position.

It'd taken three days for there to be a confirmation that it wasn't her; she'd counted. In those three days, a hundred theories had gone through her head. She'd even briefly managed to convince herself that they'd forgotten to send the badge and that it would arrive shortly. Perhaps she'd get it at school. She wanted to believe that, despite the voice at the back of her head telling her what she already knew was the truth. A truth that came knocking on their door three days later.

Jack had gotten it. He'd gotten the badge and the letter and the position. He knew better than anyone how much she'd wanted it, and it had taken him three days to work up the courage to face her with the news. She hadn't said anything when he told her—in that same kitchen with Louis and Victoire present. She'd just stared at him—or rather, through him—as he tripped over his words and delivered the news. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to fly off the handle, but she didn't. What was done was done.

For all his apprehension, he seemed rather happy to have gotten the job, which annoyed her tremendously. She offered him an empty congratulations and left the room without another word. She would later hear from her brother that Jack was relieved she'd taken it as well as she had.

From there, a divide grew. She had a really hard time looking at him—especially in a Quidditch capacity. Watching him walk around at practices with all the authority, having the last word on all the new players, telling everyone else what they should and should not be doing, creating plays. She found it hard to take him seriously. She'd always had him in her corner before; they were a team. The two of them would have a laugh about Durrin and his little power trips and general ridiculousness of what happened on the pitch. She'd always counted on him out there, but now he was next level. He was in charge. She'd been left behind.

She started challenging him constantly, and not in the same way she had done with Durrin. With Jack, she was petty and dismissive. If he tried to run a play that she found stupid, she'd counter it and tell him so. If he gave instructions to the Chasers to run drills that she thought were unnecessary, she'd again loudly declare it to be a waste of time. They couldn't get through a practice without her making snarky comments. It got to the point where Jack could comment on the sky being blue and she would somehow find a way to tell him he was being daft. She didn't care. Something in her was driving her to simply counter every part of his authority.

But Jack didn't lie down and take it. For being a generally laid-back bloke, he had a very short fuse for bullshit. For those first couple of months, he'd always tell Dominique his choice trumped hers and tell her to fly laps if she didn't like it. She'd poke and poke at him, but he rarely bit.

Until one day when his mood shifted completely. What she'd originally written off as a bad day for him quickly turned into a bad week—then weeks. He began having it out with her over every comment; soon they were full on arguing on the pitch in front of the entire team. He didn't seem to be afraid of her, or perhaps she'd pushed him past his breaking point, but their rows were becoming more and more frequent every practice. They'd even stopped speaking to each other outside of Quidditch.

It came to a head one afternoon in late November. His choice of Kenley Mortimer as the new Keeper was a rubbish one that Dominique had always ridden him hard for. He didn't agree, and doubled down on his decision every time her name came up. In retrospect, he probably fought back a bit too hard for her, because it ended up spilling into personal life with Whit.

Dominique had no idea at the time that his relationship was basically at its end. She didn't know that Jack was in a bad place with his girlfriend, and also because of the constant stresses practices caused him. The fact that Gryffindor had already lost both of their matches didn't help. The team was terrible because there was no chemistry; no camaraderie. The other members were simply stuck in an awkward position, and often stood back and watched as Jack and she fought—destroying any attempt they may have had at creating something real.

But that one November afternoon, Dominique finally overstepped herself. She'd mouthed off on Kenley one too many times, and Jack finally cracked. It was the worst row to date.

"She can't stop a fucking Quaffle to save her life!" Dominique yelled, all of her anger directed at Jack. "Time and time again, everything goes straight past her, but you don't want to see it! Is she blowing you after practice? Is that why you refuse to admit it?"

He'd gone red. Absolutely beet red. He yelled back, "Fuck off," in a tone she'd never heard him use before. She'd touched a nerve—a nerve that in hindsight made a lot of sense given his girlfriend's growing fears of him falling for Kenley. She hadn't known any of that at the time, though. Had she, it would have been a low blow. As it were, she was just being a bitch and trying to needle him.

"You fuck off!" she yelled back. "You can't even see it!"

"How is she supposed to get any better when all you do is harass her?!" he shouted. "Everyone's fucking sick of it." He gestured around to the rest of the team, all of whom had landed back on the ground and were now standing away from the two of them. "If you don't want to be on the team, then leave. I'll find someone new!"

She laughed. "Who?!"

"I'll be the fucking Seeker if I have to be!" he said, chucking his bat on the ground hard enough that it left a divot in the grass. "I don't fucking care! You can go!" He pointed in the direction of the changing rooms. "Just go!"

"Fine!" she screamed back.

She'd gone back to the changing room and hit a few of the lockers out of anger. She'd chucked a stack of towels well across the room and kicked a few chairs over. It was a tantrum, sure, but she'd seen people do worse after losses. She went into the showers and sat on the cool floor, her eyes shut and her head thumped dully against the wall. She didn't turn on the water, she just needed a moment to decompress. She needed to calm down. Like always, she was letting her anger get the best of her.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but she soon heard voices. The rest of the team was returning after practice. She probably should have been gone by now; she sure as hell didn't want to see any of them, but there was only one exit and she'd have to pass them all to get to it. Unless someone came into the showers, which no one did after practice, no one would see her. She would have to wait them out.

"What the…?" came someone's voice. It was a girl. She had to assume Kenley.

"Bloody fucking hell," said Jack. His tone was annoyed and angry.

"You think she did all this?" asked a third voice. It sounded like Tommy Hornsby, the other Beater.

"Of course she did," Kenley said. "She's unhinged. Why is she still even on the team if she hates it so much?"

Dominique sat up straight at that. She was about to jump up and walk straight out there and break Kenley in half at the suggestion. After all, who was she—other than the worst Keeper in the history of Hogwarts—to suggest such a thing? The only thing that stopped her were the next words that came out of Jack's mouth.

"It's getting to that point," he said, sounding as if he was cleaning up and pulling chairs around the room. "I might have to. I can't deal with her anymore."

She froze. He wouldn't, would he? He couldn't, could he? Who else…? Shit, what had she done? She'd pushed things too far. Quidditch was her life. She was throwing everything away because she was angry with one of the few people who could end Quidditch for her entirely. How had it come to this?

"This is stupid," she heard Jack mumble one more time before the sound of someone aggressively throwing open the exit door followed.

"I think the choice is obvious," said Kenley, though her voice drifted further away with every word she said. Soon, the sound of a door closing was the last thing Dominique heard. Silence followed. She must have been alone again. She stood up and walked out of the showers. The changing room was empty and clean once again. She felt a surge of panic course through her. She fucked up. She needed to talk to him.

Originally, her plan was to talk to him in the common room before dinner, but she'd missed him on the way out. Then, while at dinner, he and Whit had sat away from everyone else. While it was normal for him to sit away from Dominique, he did usually still stick close to Louis and the others. She and him weren't on speaking terms, but they both floated around the same social circle. Seeing him and Whit off on their own was unusual because they barely seemed to be talking to each other. She'd have understood if perhaps they'd wanted to be alone, but every time she cast a glance down the Gryffindor table at them, they both looked as if they wanted to be anywhere else.

She had finished her meal and left to wait in the Entrance Hall outside of the Great Hall, hoping this time to catch him when he left. She paced a bit, pondering over and over again what she was going to say to him. If he was seriously contemplating chucking her off the team, she had to say exactly the right thing to make him realize that was a poor choice. She could do this. Be sorry. Be sincere.

The moment he and Whit finally emerged, she stepped forward and, after taking a deep breath, called out his name. She hadn't immediately realized that the pair were talking, but in a snippy, terse sort of way. They looked as if they were having an argument—one she'd just interrupted—and when they turned, neither looked particularly happy to see her. She'd definitely interrupted something.

"Uh," she stammered, "I wondered if I could have a word."

Jack flexed his jaw, clearly aggravated. Whether it was with her, with Whit, with a combination of the two, she didn't know. "I'm busy."

"One minute. I promise. I'll make it quick. It's just about earlier. About Quidditch."

"Of course it's Quidditch," Whit muttered, showing a rarely seen aggravated side. She turned and walked a few paces away.

Jack watched her turn and, for some reason, Dominique suspected that Whit's reaction was the only reason he was even considering talking to her right now. Before that, he'd seemed set on walking away. Now, her simple turn seemed to make him reconsider.

"Fine," he said, stepping toward her and filling in the small gap between them. "What?"

"I…" Dominique looked beyond him, where Whit was waiting with her arms crossed and her body language annoyed. She focused back on Jack, who was practically staring a hole through her. She'd really picked the wrong moment to do this. "I'm sorry about earlier."

He continued to stare at her, though it seemed just slightly less intense now.

"I was out of line. I've been out of line. I fucked up. I wanted you to know that," she took a deep breath, "I understand that you're the captain, and I need to respect that. And I will. From now on, I'll rein it in."

There was a long silence. He didn't say anything, though she didn't really know what she wanted him to say. He continued to stare until he suddenly didn't. He blinked and looked away, back over his shoulder to where Whit still stood waiting for him. Finally, he said, "That it?"

She nodded.

He nodded as well, and just as quickly turned away. In several steps, he was back over to where Whit was, though neither of them said anything as they walked off together. Dominique noted that you could probably have fit four or five people in the space they'd left between them as they walked. That certainly could not have been any more awkward.

But it had worked. There was no call to have her kicked off the team; no other suggestions or meetings held to discuss it. While things weren't perfect and she and Jack still remained cold and distant, she did what she was told and gave little push back.

Things may have been better, but they weren't anywhere close to how they used to be. Life was too busy getting in the way for the both of them now; repairing any sort of lost friendship they had was very much a low priority. In the month that would follow, her and Jack's worlds would continue to shake. He and Whit would split up for good, just before the holidays. Henry had kissed Dominique-her first kiss-and to say that messed with her head was an understatement.

Then, on top of all of that, the biggest explosion occurred when she'd discovered that Louis and Sarah had been lying to her for months about being together. They were a couple now; they'd fallen in love. The two people she trusted most in the world had lied to her for months. That felt like a stab to the back unlike anything else she'd ever experienced.

She'd blown up on both of them; stopped speaking to them for days. She obviously knew she couldn't rid herself of Louis, but she wanted nothing to do with Sarah and as little to do with her brother as she could manage. It was especially hard given that it was Christmas time, and their house became a hotbed of she and Louis sniping and fighting with each other. It was becoming apparent that all she did lately was fight with people she cared about after feeling betrayed by them. It was becoming exhausting. Worse yet, she was losing everyone.

She, Louis and Sarah did eventually start speaking again— because she didn't have other friends outside of them—but she still couldn't be around them. Now that they were out in the open for all to see, they were permanently attached. Snogging in the corridors and cuddling in the common room; she wanted to punch them both in the face multiple times a day. They were in their own world, completely oblivious to everyone around them. If they weren't on top of each other, they were working on school work together, sitting together, always together. They were functioning as one single unit now; both of them lost entirely to their relationship.

While this was happening, Quidditch had been put on hiatus until the harsh January snow cleared. This meant there were weeks where Dominique couldn't even escape to her broom to clear her head. Things with Henry were getting more intense, school work was building, Louis and Sarah were driving her mad—she needed time to think; to slow down. She needed time to clear her head, which is what she did immediately once the snow finally did subside.

She'd woken that first good morning and practically sprinted down to the Quidditch pitch to break out her broom. Her cabin fever had reached an all time high; she'd been days away from clawing away at the walls-or her brother's face. The truth was, she'd been rather lonely lately with all that had happened. She really didn't have anyone to talk to now that the two people closest to her were predisposed, while also being the source of her annoyance. There was still Victoire, but she and Dominique didn't have much in common outside of their family life. Plus, her sister also had her own life and friends, and these days she was so swept up in studying for her N.E.W.T exams that Dominique was better off talking to the portraits in the corridors.

The other people in her house, she tolerated at best. Flynn was obnoxious; her roommate Eleanor may as well have been in Ravenclaw given that she spent every waking moment she had with her friends over there. Her Quidditch teammates still weren't over her antics from the past few months, and her other roommate, Natalie, had become insufferable since—with Louis being her ex and Sarah being her friend—she'd felt completely betrayed by their coupling. She'd become an angry mess, which Dominique would usually find some amusement in, but there was something about this instance that made her feel sorry for her. Maybe it was because she, too, felt betrayed by the entire thing.

That left Henry, and while they got on fine with their eyes closed and their mouths and bodies pressed up against each other, they didn't talk. She hated his friends and he didn't seem very keen on hers-or rather, what was left of hers. They weren't the type that shared secrets and opened up to one another.

All she had left was her most trusted and reliable companion-her broom-and it had been far too long since they'd seen each other. As she crossed the school grounds on that frigid day and entered the arena, she went straight into the changing room. She practically ran to her locker, where she knew her poor broom had been cooped up for the last month in below freezing temperatures. It needed to be free; to feel the wind in its bristles; to—

"What are you doing here?" came Jack's voice, which made her jump back and practically out of her skin. She'd assumed she'd been alone.

"Fuck, Jack, you scared me half to death."

He was standing on the opposite side of the room, over where they usually had their team meetings and reviewed their plans for matches. He had a book and a quill in his hands—the playbook, if she had to guess—and was now blankly staring at her.

"I'm getting my broom," she said. "Thought I'd go for a ride."

He nodded as if he understood that. "Weather's finally turned."

"It has," she said, tapping her wand to her locker door and watching as it popped open. She immediately thought that her broom looked cramped and lonely.

"I'm trying to get things ready for practices to start back up again," he said, though she hadn't asked.

"Cool," she said without much emotion, reaching in to grab her broom and methodically checking it for any wear.

Perhaps he took the hint, because he didn't say anything more to her. She noticed several of her broom bristles were bent and crooked, so it must have fallen awkwardly in her locker. The handle was also in desperate need of a shine. She'd have to do that before taking it outside. She was rather obsessed with her broom's maintenance and upkeep.

She looked in her locker for her bristle scissors and handle polish, but only found the former of the two. She reached around aimlessly, attempting to land her hand on what she knew had to be in there, but even after standing up on her tiptoes to get a better look, there was none to be found. Shit. How had she forgotten to get more?

She glanced over at Jack, who had his back to her as he sat and scribbled in his book. They still hadn't spoken much since her apology, but even so, she had noticed that ever since his split from Whit, he'd returned from the Christmas holiday far more subdued. He was already a quiet person, but he'd been even quieter in classes; other than hanging around with Flynn in the common room—seeing as Louis was apparently too busy for him as well—he mostly kept to himself. Dominique could sympathize. They had that in common.

"Hey," she said, feeling bold. "You don't happen to have any extra handle polish do you?"

He looked up at her, then his eyes immediately went to his locker. "I should. It'd be in there. Do you need some?"

"If you don't mind. I ran out," she said, watching as he set his book down and stood up. He made his way to his locker and tapped it with his wand, which caused the door to immediately open. He started scanning the stop shelf and found the polish rather quickly. He pulled out a large container and made a gesture to her as if he was going to toss it to her.

She opened her hands and let him lob it, catching it easily. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, though his attention was already back on what he was doing before. He'd sat back down and picked up his quill faster than she could get the lid off of the container.

The silence continued as she proceeded to tend to her broom, though she found herself constantly checking over to where Jack was. The truth was, she wasn't even sure why things were still the way they were between them. Everything that had happened seemed so long ago. She'd gotten angry with a lot of people since, and they'd all made up. Her and Louis had been through hell and back; she'd been ready to cut Sarah out of her life entirely. Why were things with Jack still so off? Sure, Louis was her literal twin and Sarah was her best friend—their ties ran deeper and were perhaps worth fighting harder for—but Jack had been her closest friend out on the Quidditch pitch for years. She'd gotten used to him as captain and had meant every word of her apology. If they could let this go, maybe things could go back to the way they once were.

"You going to try flying today?" she asked, buffing a particularly ugly spot off her handle.

He didn't look up from what he was scribbling. "I was thinking about it."

"I'd suspect most people are," she said, setting down her towel and observing her work. Shiny and practically like new. That was more like it. "You should try and get out there before it gets crowded. Now's the best time."

He stopped writing and looked up at her.

"I mean, unless the playbook needs immediate tending to," she said with a shrug. "Which it doesn't. Season doesn't pick back up again until next week at the earliest, I'd guess."

Jack didn't seem to know how to react to that. He seemed like he wanted to speak, but he didn't.

"Think about it," she said, grabbing her broom in one hand and heading toward the exit. "Maybe I'll see you out there."

It hadn't exactly been the most obvious extension of an olive branch in the history of the world, but that had taken a lot of energy for her. She'd at least made an attempt to tear down the wall that she'd been spending so much of the last few months building.

He had come out that day, and while she'd have loved for things to have been immediately cool and all forgiven between them, it was far from the case. They'd mostly flown around on their own; soon joined by a few more people who were also looking to stretch their flying muscles. The following day they would do something similar, and by the time their next practice rolled around, their conversations had grown from a handful of words to a handful of sentences. It was about midway through the first week of the season when one of them—she couldn't remember who— attempted a topic that wasn't Quidditch related.

"I hate being around them and their constant snogging," Dominique said as she held the Quidditch supply trunk open at the ready. "That's all they do. I feel as if I need to remind them to come up for some air."

Jack laughed a little as he attempted to wrangle a particularly ornery Bludger back into its compartment. Once he did, she slammed the lid shut and watched as he thumped back hard into a sitting position onto the ground.

"And I hate wrestling Bludgers," she added. "So, I'm glad that's your job."

"You think I'd be used to it by now," Jack mumbled as she leaned over and reached out a hand to help him up.

"Which part? Louis and Sarah or the Bludgers?"

He laughed again as he reached down to pick up the trunk. "Both."

She went over to pick up his broom and bat, while he carried the chest off toward the equipment room. As she juggled his things and her own broom, nearby Tommy had jogged over looking as if he wanted to lend a hand. "You need any help?"

"No, I got it," she said, having finally found a way to comfortably carry all three. "Jack'll be right back anyway. Just figured I'd grab it for him so he didn't have to walk all the way back out here."

Tommy nodded a little and looked to be hiding a small smile. "Glad to see you two...you know."

She stared at him. She wanted to put him on the spot and tell him to mind his own business—not state the obvious like a prat—prat she bit her tongue. She'd fought enough people lately and she genuinely needed a break. She was avoiding confrontation for the time being. A small modicum of peace had returned to this team and it was time to let it grow.

Things got better after that. Their Quidditch team bounced back to win most of their remaining matches, though they were kept out of the final match by Ravenclaw and a particularly cocky Henry. That had been a long week—especially for him, considering Dominique had decided to ice him out and not touch him until she managed to get over things. Louis and Sarah eventually returned back to earth after having their heads in the clouds for ages. They started to find a better balance of being an "us" and also being themselves. They would still snog randomly all over the place, but it wasn't a constant anymore. Dominique got to have them both back from time to time. She wasn't always the outsider anymore.

But, even when she still was, she'd found someone else to spend her time with. Jack was a good source of sanity when her brother and Sarah would slip back into their old habits. She could always count on him to now be on the receiving end of her eye roll or her annoyed facial expressions. If those two went off on their own, she now had him to finish homework with or play a game of table Quidditch. By the end of the year, she had stopped counting on Sarah and Louis first when she was looking for company. She and Jack had grown to be friends, and she trusted him now as much as the other two. They'd come back from a lot, but ultimately got a much better friendship out of it.

"Did you hear me?" Jack suddenly asked, snapping her back to reality. The sun disappeared behind the horizon line entirely now; the sky was purple going on dark blue. She'd apparently been lost in thought for some time.

"No," she rubbed her eyes, "I didn't."

"Where's your head?"

"Thinking about last season. Or rather, last year. It really was a fucking mess." She looked up at him. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, taking a long swig from a bottle of water.

"Would you have ever thrown me off the Quidditch team? When things were really bad and we were fighting, did you think about it?"

He swallowed his water then, though he didn't answer right away. He was either thinking about it or choosing his words carefully. "I mean, I didn't, did I?"

"But did you ever want to?"

He shrugged. "There were days…" He trailed off. "But no. We worked everything out before it got to that point. So, I can't say whether I would have actually done it or not. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I didn't. I would have regretted it."

She looked away, not entirely sure what sort of answer she was looking for out of him. She wasn't even quite sure why she'd asked the question.

"I'm also certain you'd have murdered me in my sleep if I had."

"Funny you think I'd wait for you to sleep," she said, smiling at him while also noticing Michael and Ellibit approaching from nearby, on their way to the commissary. Her actual smile slipped into something more forced as soon as they drew nearer.

"Well, look at this," said Ellibit, taking in the tree and ground and the surrounding area with a sort of amused energy. "Much nicer out here than in there. You two look cozy, even."

Jack started to stand, collecting his and Dominique's trash as he did so. "We're all finished, so you can have the spot if you want." He gestured to the rubbish and nodded back toward the commissary. "I'm going to go and toss this in the bin. Then, I think I'm going to get some pudding. Nic, you want anything?"

She shook her head, just as Michael offered to go with him and pick up food for himself and Ellibit. Ellibit in turn sat down in Jack's vacant seat, happily looking around as she did. "Such a nice night."

She hummed in agreement.

"What are you two up to tonight?"

Dominique yawned and stretched her arms. "I've had a long day, so I'm probably going to call it a night. Go back to the dorm, maybe get a start on the bookwork so I don't have to do much once everything gets started around here. I want to be ready for tomorrow. Make a good impression."

"And Jack?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Ask him. I'm not his babysitter."

"Oh, I just assumed you two had plans."

"Why?"

"Because you seem close, is all," she said, now fidgeting a little as she played with a spot on the ground. "I'd never paid much attention before, but I've noticed since we've been here."

She continued to stare at her. "I guess so. We are friends."

"Which is why I assumed you had plans."

She couldn't be sure, but she felt like Ellibit was playing at something. It made her suddenly feel defensive and oddly caged in. "Like I said, I don't know his plans. He got those French girls' room number, maybe he plans on chatting them up."

Ellibit's head popped up at that, her curiosity piqued. "I thought he hadn't found them? That's what he'd said."

"He didn't. I found them for him."

She seemed confused. Her expression was one Dominique really couldn't place, but she said nothing more than a quiet, "Huh," before both of them lulled into an awkward silence. But—as Dominique had learned earlier—Ellibit wasn't capable of silence for long; she soon commented on the music coming out of the D Dorm and forced the most minimal of small talk until the boys returned with their hands full. Jack had helped Michael carry their dinners outside, and as they got situated, Dominique stood to leave.

"What are you two up to tonight?" Michael asked in the identical way Ellibit had minutes before.

"You two even talk alike," Dominique mumbled, glancing between the two of them. She hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Michael smiled in a warm sort of way.

"Jack apparently got those French girls' room number," Ellibit said to him. "Dominique found them after everyone left."

"No kidding? Look at that," he said, throwing Jack a sly sort of smile. "You thinking about going for a visit?"

Dominique threw Jack a sideways glance, noticing his body language seemed rather lazy. He shrugged before shaking his head. "Not tonight. Big day tomorrow, you know? I had a really late night last night and I don't feel I've got much left in me. I'll probably start the bookwork and get to bed early. Want to make a good impression."

Ellibit caught Dominique's eye and smirked. "Funny, she said the same thing. You two sort of sound alike, too."

Dominique felt her teeth clench, but hid it as Michael nodded and bit into his sandwich. "Well, I think we're planning on walking around a bit, seeing what's going on, but not too late. Maybe we'll catch you if you two are around later."

They all said their goodnights, and Dominique hoped that would be the last she'd have to see of those two for the evening. She'd had her fill of the Hufflepuff pair for one day, having spoken to both of them more today than probably in the last two years combined. As enticing as it was to actually see what this night scene was all about—especially Dorm D—she still had days to do that. Tomorrow she was making her first impressions on people who could potentially shape her Quidditch future. She couldn't jeopardize that for some shots of firewhiskey and a few good songs. Tonight, she would study and sleep.

"I got chocolate biscuits," Jack offered as they walked, holding up a rather large brown paper sack. She took it from him and peered inside. It had to have at least twenty biscuits in there.

"You got all the chocolate biscuits."

"I left some behind," he said as he took the bag back. "I figured you'd eat some."

"Always looking out there, Jack," she said, shaking her head.


	8. Eager Elite

Dominique rose the following morning earlier than she normally would. Traces of daylight were creeping in through the window and the clock said it was ten past six. She had to report to the Quidditch pitch by eight and be ready to start the day's training. It seemed as if now was as good a time as any to get her day started.

She yawned, still tired, but mostly energized and excited. Beside her, Jack's bed was empty, but she had expected that. She'd known him to be an early riser from the many times he'd slept at their house throughout the years. It never seemed to matter how much sleep he got, unless he was hungover beyond repair, he was always awake before most people. You could count on him to be one of the first people in the Great Hall for breakfast, and he was always the person you would see up early finishing an assignment before classes.

He'd warned her the night before he'd planned to leave early, but that he would try his best to keep quiet. He liked to work out in the mornings, often either lifting weights or running several miles before breakfast. This was especially important to him during Quidditch season and he claimed it set the tone for his whole day. Eat, work out, eat again, and then be ready to stretch and be out on his broom. She admired his work ethic and his ability to stick to his routine, but she wasn't particularly keen to follow suit. She liked to sleep too much.

After performing a few basic stretches, she stood and looked around the room. Her workbook sat closed on the floor where she'd left it yesterday. Their quiet night of bookwork had been exactly that. They'd gotten much more done than she'd anticipated and had been asleep well before midnight. She and Jack may be the lamest people in all of the camp right now, but if it helped get them better prepared for today, then so be it. They'd spent all summer getting piss drunk and staying up all night with their friends. They could take it easy for a few days.

She bent over and finished some easy stretches before dressing for the day, brushing and washing up, and tending to her broom—which she had made sure was in perfect working order in the days leading up to leaving. She generally spent more time tending to her broom than herself, which was something she'd never once felt bad about.

Once everything was in order, she headed out to the common area and saw a few people milling about, most dressed far more casually today than yesterday. Trainers and t-shirts, sports bras and headbands had replaced the nicer, more everyday looking robes and clothes from the previous day. There were also brooms everywhere now; there wasn't a single witch or wizard in sight who wasn't holding one or within close proximity of one.

The energy was different—far more charged and palpable. Dominique could get behind this. Perhaps this was what was missing from the day before. Today everyone was down to business. There was a focus in people's eyes that was missing yesterday. Yesterday had been about meeting and socializing and making friends; today there were other matters to deal with.

She walked down to the commissary, which—like the common area—was completely different from the day before. It was busy, yes, but it wasn't overflowing with people. There were vacant tables and chairs; there was space to move. Dominique could actually see the food behind the counter all the way down the length of the wall instead of forcing her way up to grab the first thing she could. She didn't have to elbow anyone as she helped herself to some fruit and eggs. The bread that had been charmed to toast itself wasn't being swarmed by tens and tens of people at once. As she went and sat—finally indoors—she already suspected that this day was going to be better.

She ate quickly and doubled checked her pitch posting before heading out to find where she needed to be. Her paper had read pitch nine, which she found was one of the last pitches She'd stood around for several confused minutes, seeing as there was no real instruction as to what she should be doing now that she was here. There were others out there—about twenty to thirty people—some lazily sitting around, laughing and chatting with people they'd clearly cliqued off with. Some were stretching themselves out as far as their bodies would allow; some were actually on their brooms flying laps. She assumed she had some free time to do what she needed to prepare, so after forcing herself to stretch her back and arms, she grabbed her broom with excited anticipation. Finally.

She hopped on and took to the sky immediately, falling into a worn and comfortable spot on her broom. She crouched low to the handle and speed up as fast as she could, blowing by some of the more casual flyers in the process. Traffic seemed to be headed in a clockwise motion around the pitch, so she found an outer lane and followed the flow. She zoomed around at top speed for at least three to four laps before finally slowing down and assimilating into the general stream of things.

A loud whistle blew, and though Dominique looked around for the source, most of the others immediately dove straight to the ground. She followed suit, noticing the group of Seekers had doubled its size since she had arrived. There were now nearly sixty to seventy people, and they were all forming a large circle around a collection of people standing in the center. When Dominique touched down to the ground, she made her way to the front and saw that there were five people standing there—the same five people who had been present at the orientation the day before. Just as yesterday, Aiden Lynch seemed to be the man in charge as he stepped forward to address the group.

"Terrific! Happy to see so many of you here and on time," he said, having changed out of the fancy dress robes and now dressed like a proper Seeker. He was wearing a black and red robe that was very reminiscent of his Ballycastle days. Seemed he wanted to remind everyone of exactly where he'd come from.

"We'd like to get right down to business," he continued, glancing behind him at the other Seeking coaches. He made a gesture and Hortensia Wagner stepped forward, handing him a clipboard. "Terrific. Thanks." He faced forward again. "If you recall from your orientation information, you were given a group number as well as a number to wear on your person. What we're going to do is group you off according to those numbers. If you haven't already, please place your number on your clothes and robes where it can be seen."

He glanced at the clipboard. "Ones will go with Coach Sabatino to pitch eight, Twos with Coach Ahlgren and Coach Wagner on seven, Threes with Coach Abreu right here on nine, and Fours with me, also here on nine."

She glanced down at the number four of the front of her shirt. Seemed her first session was with Aiden Lynch as an instructor. Not a bad draw.

"Throughout the course of the day—and week, actually—the coaches will be rotating through each group to offer their own specific skills set and instructions, so you will work with everyone. You may also be asked to change groups based on the overall opinion of the coaching staff. We will inform you if that happens." He gave the group a general nod, scanning the crowd at random. "Terrific! Let's get started."

Dominique watched the crowd begin to disperse around her in different directions. The majority of the people were headed to a nearby pitch, and once things began to settle, she noticed that only about twenty people remained. Aiden Lynch and Malu Abreu were both chatting, seemingly waiting to see what they were left with. When it appeared that everyone had found their way, they both finally turned to the group.

"Terrific," said Lynch, clapping his hands. "Who are my fours? We'll be headed to the left side over here. Threes, you're on the right."

Dominique headed in the direction of the left side of the pitch, noticing Giggleswick then for the first time all day. He also was headed toward the left, along with only seven other people. She glanced over to the other end of the pitch, where another small group was headed in the opposite direction. In contrast, on the pitch next door, a group of what had to be thirty to forty people were gathered. She wasn't quite sure what it all meant.

"I always enjoy these smaller groups the most," said Lynch, having removed his wand from his neck and now talking normally. "Most of you are still students, correct?"

There was a murmur of agreement. Only two people—a guy and a girl—standing in the center, didn't respond. Lynch was now staring at them.

"Jere Nieminen and Valentina Ricci, I take it?"

The man, who seemed quite large for a Seeker, nodded, while the woman said, "Yes."

"Terrific," Lynch said with a smile, and Dominique was starting to sense that he clearly had a limited vocabulary. He turned back to the others. "And what schools are you all from? Who's from Hogwarts?"

Dominique and Giggleswick raised their hands, causing Lynch to grin widely. "My school. I was a Gryffindor. Would have been in the late seventies, so you two weren't even born."

She immediately returned the smile, happy to have that in common with him. "It is the best house."

"I happen to think so," Lynch said, just as Giggleswick rolled his eyes in an obvious manner. Dominique had hoped the gesture would have put Lynch off of him, but instead it made him laugh. "And you're?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Terrific," Lynch said with a smile, moving on to the rest of the group. There were four Seekers from Durmstrang—though only three were still students—and three from Beauxbatons—again, only two still being students. It was then Dominique realized the two in the center—the one's Lynch had specifically addressed by name—were invitation athletes. They'd both graduated months earlier and had probably already performed in the Trials the previous year. She stared at them, now slightly awestruck. They were what she wanted to be.

"No other schools this year, eh?" Lynch continued, glancing up and down the row of them. "Sometimes we get someone from outside the norm, but they usually gather at their own version of Trials in their corners of the globe. I personally feel as though the best Seekers come out of our neck of the woods anyway, so all the better.

"Before we begin—and seeing as most of you are new—let me reiterate how important the rankings are. They will define you from here on out. Starting today. Every time you visit the Trials, you will be defined by a number. That number can grow or shrink depending on the day or the year. The harder you work and the more talented you are, the better the ranking. As head of the Seekers commission, I can tell you right now that I get a lot of good Seekers through here. I also get a lot of rubbish. But I only get a few great ones. It's the great ones that will make a name for themselves and become legends"

He stopped to smile. "And that could start today. But first, I'd like to see what you can do. For my student friends, grab your brooms and meet me at the center of the pitch. My two invitations, I'd like to speak to you both privately for a moment."

Dominique watched the two invitation athletes walk straight to Lynch, though she didn't bother to wait and see what they were staying. She needed to focus. This was it. This was the start of everything. She clutched her broom and headed to the center, where everyone else was already lined up.

Lynch, as it turns out, was focused more on the fundamentals of Quidditch and athleticism. He'd taken them out to the center of the pitch and made them all place their brooms in a row. He'd then asked them to run wind sprints back and forth from the center of the pitch to the rings, but he never said how many times. Turns out there was a reason for that. A half an hour and a good eighteen full sprints back and forth later, he finally blew his whistle and told them to stop.

Dominique was winded and had a sharp pain in her side, but she'd done well enough. She was used to being on a broom, not running, so this was new territory for her. She suddenly wished she'd taken Jack up on an invitation or two to join him for a run.

Everyone was given some time for water, though while they did, they observed Lynch at the center of the pitch. He was using his wand to levitate their brooms, forming a ladder formation well into the air. It was tall enough that Dominique had to squint into the sunlight to see the top.

"What are we supposed to do with that?" someone asked.

"Climb it," said the invitation girl called Valentina. "Repeatedly."

She was right. Minutes later, Lynch instructed them all to climb the broom ladder to the very top, hop over the last broom, and climb back down. He'd be timing them, with the goal being to continuously beat the fastest time posted. They'd have completed the challenge once no one could beat the fastest time. That person would be noted for being the quickest and have it reflect in their daily score.

Dominique drew the fourth slot and watched as one by one, people sped up and down the ladder. The number three, one of the Beauxbatons boys, slipped midway up and began tumbling to the ground. He managed to grip his hand onto a lower runged broom before he hit the ground, and was now dangling there and struggling to replant his feet. She wondered what exactly would have happened had he not caught the broom. She hadn't seen anyone reach for their wands to catch him in midair, but surely, they weren't letting people fall to their doom. Were they?

She'd find out soon enough, seeing as they were at the task for over an hour. Her first sprint through had been a success, though much more difficult in practice than she'd imagined. The brooms weren't secure and felt very much like they were floating. Each step she took had give, which only made her feel sluggish her first few trips up and down. She did gradually get faster—everyone did—until muscle memory started to take over and make the task suddenly seem fairly easy. That is, until they all started to wear from the exhaustion of having to perform it over and over.

It was the ninth round through when someone legitimately fell. There had been many slips and catches; many near misses and mad grabs for something to hold on to. On the whole, everyone was getting through it until the same Beauxbatons boy from before, she'd since learned was named Adrien,went over the top broom too quickly. His feet missed the next broom and he tumbled too far away from the ladder to even try and grab something. He was headed straight for the ground, screaming as he did so. Lynch was just watching, looking only the slightest bit concerned.

Dominique looked away; she couldn't watch. All she could hear was one of Adrien's schoolmates gasp loudly at what she had to assume was near impact.

But there was silence. No sound of a body smacking the ground. No sobs or screams. Once she did finally look, she saw the boy facing down and floating barely an inch from the ground. He was so close that the blades of grass had to have been tickling the tip of his nose. He lifted his head up, his eyes still filled with terror and shock, and was staring directly at Lynch.

Lynch, in turn, looked bored. "Next one up, please."

This continued on until they finally couldn't beat the large invitation bloke's time of one minute and twenty seven seconds. The closest Dominique could come was a minute forty. Giggleswick was just behind her at a minute forty-two. By her count, they were third and fourth, respectively.

Once they were finally given a proper break to sit and catch their breath, Dominique noticed she had sweat dripping off every part of her. She felt as if someone had killed the breeze and turned up the heat. As she continued to fill her bottle up with water and drain it all down in large gulps, she once again noticed she hadn't been required to use her broom that morning. She'd only even touched it while climbing the ladder. When exactly was the actual Quidditch going to start?

Malu Abreu was now present on their side of the pitch, a broom and a medium sized chest in her arms. Lynch had disappeared without a word to the opposite end and to the other group, so it must have been time for a new coach. Dominique was unsure as to whether this was a good or bad thing.

Abreu didn't appear to be struggling to carry the chest, so whatever was in there must have been rather light. She proceeded to place it on the ground and open it; inside revealing dummy Snitches. Everyone was watching her now, but she again said nothing as she removed several of them and placed them in a pile on the grass. She proceeded to levitate all of them about two feet off of the ground and then sent a collection of markers into the air to form large circles. There was a bullseye pattern to the sky formation and, like the ladder, it went well up into the air. Dominique again craned her neck up in order to take it all in. She could only hope that she had access to her broom this time since she couldn't figure out how she'd get up there otherwise.

"Shall we begin?" Abreu asked, her jet black hair moving in what little breeze there was now. "You'll need your brooms." She mounted her own and shot straight into the sky. She was weaving in and out of the markers as someone nearby muttered, "At least we actually get to fucking fly this time."

Expert diving technique, Abreu explained once everyone was mounted and up, was what set Seekers apart from Chasers. Chasers had to dive, of course, but Seekers had to be able to dive within inches of the ground and stop before the two met. There was skill and precision required in their diving. The six rings of the bullseye represented a starting point at which she wanted to see each and every one of them dive from, only to reach the hovering dummy Snitch down below.

The further out on the circle, the more of an angle they had to fly down. The more they moved toward the center, the less of an angle they had. If one could get to the last marker, it was essentially as if they were going straight down-a near impossible move to pull off. Dominique had never seen someone intentionally do it, though she had witnessed it accidentally at the professional level. She had to think that if anyone could hit that Snitch from the center marker, they deserved to go pro then and there.

Just as they'd done with Lynch and his exercise games, they again devoted more hellish hours to this task—but at least this time they were on a broom. The sun beat down on her and made the sweat sting her eyes, and she repeatedly had to use her t-shirt to wipe it away. Not the best time to have impaired vision, but she had to push through. She was a skilled diver, but even she didn't think she could risk going past the third ring.

Ring six and five were standard dives, and she pulled up and out of each easily, as did most of the others. By four, people were starting to slip up. Adrien—the only person whose name she'd learned given just how terrible he was—had been struggling at five, so four came off as impossible for him. Two of the Durmstrang Seekers pulled off the dive but missed the Snitch at four, and even Giggleswick bobbled a bit, though recovered just as quickly. Dominique knew she was a better diver than him. Every time it had come down to a steep dive between the two, she'd always won it out.

Three is where she started to have some issues. Several people had stopped moving forward at that point, instead remaining at four. At three, the angle was getting so tight that she struggled to hold onto her broom for much of the way down. She'd pulled the dive off in the past and knew she could if she concentrated.

She took a deep breath at three and pointed herself down, immediately accelerating her speed as fast as she could handle. The ground was getting closer, though when she connected with the Snitch and managed to still pull herself away from the ground, she wanted to scream for joy. She didn't, but she did let out a loud grunt sort of noise; something of a primal nature. She kept it together and swiftly flew back up to her place. She noted Abreu throwing a quick glance in her direction before recording something with a Quick Quill. That one move alone hopefully put her into the top of the pack.

The invitation called Valentina went to attempt the two, causing everyone to stop and watch. Dominique's stomach flipped at the idea of witnessing this, but Valentina merely took a deep breath and began racing toward the Snitch below, her broom practically perpendicular to the ground for much of the trip. She actually looked rather confident, as if she'd done this a hundred times, and somehow she pulled it out and managed to fly away from the ground unscathed with a dummy Snitch in her hands. Dominique gaped while the two other Beauxbatons' kids clapped and cheered. Abreu was now writing something of length in her notes.

Valentina swung back up and was immediately greeted by her Beauxbatons' friends. She looked proud but modest, and Dominique didn't think she'd be holding it together that well. Had she pulled that off, she would have made sure everyone in this bloody camp knew it. She turned and looked back down at the dummy Snitch below her. Did she have it in her to try it at the two? Every ounce of energy had been drained from her body at this point, but something inside of her told her to give it a shot. None of the others were even considering it, and if she wanted to stand out, this was what she needed to do. She had to trust herself and her skills. Even if she didn't catch the Snitch, perhaps she'd get credit for the attempt.

With a heavy breath, she flew to one of the two markers and looked down. It was barely a few degrees off of a straight shot. This seemed reckless. Many of the others were busy performing their dives back at the other numbers to even notice, though Valentina was watching her. She even smiled at her in an encouraging sort of manner. Dominique couldn't tell if it was genuine or instead hopeful. After all, if she messed this up, it would only make her look that much better in comparison.

"I can do this," she said to herself. "I can do this. I can do this."

She took the chance and started to dive, her speed building quickly and her broom suddenly feeling as if it was slipping straight out from under her. She felt as if she were in a free fall and that there was no comfortable way to both grab her broom and keep herself on it while also reaching out to catch the Snitch. She attempted to pull her right arm off just a bit, and immediately felt herself wobble and her body pulling away from her broom as if she were falling forward. She grasped her broom, but it made the handle shake hard given it was fighting against gravity and speed. The ground was coming up quickly now and she had to pull up. She was losing control. If she could just go a little further...

She pulled up out of instinct, her broom shaking and jostling her forward. Had she not gripped on worth all of her might, she would have flown over the front and hit the ground. As it were, she managed to steady herself, though her knuckles were now white as she looked down at the grip she currently had.

With a heavy sigh and a wipe of her brow, she flew back up to the top where everyone was watching her, Abreu included. She gave her a quick once over, her quill working quickly, but her face was unreadable. She didn't know if she was disappointed by the failure or impressed by the attempt. Around her, the others were giving her sideways glances and whispering amongst themselves. Some weren't even paying attention and instead focusing on their own dives back at four and three. Giggleswick was among these, though she didn't believe for a second that he hadn't watched every second of her attempt. He'd probably loved that she'd missed, but she'd tried it and that was all that mattered. Perhaps after a few more runs at three, she could try again.

"You'll have an hour for lunch," Abreu said out of nowhere, after what had seemed like a lifetime of diving. Dominique's head was killing her thanks to the hours spent experiencing intense pressure changes. She felt a wreck and probably looked like one too; she certainly felt like she smelled like one. Everything was starting to ache and she was only half way through the day. An hour for lunch seemed too short. She needed a week to rest.

Once on the ground, she noticed that the crowds from the start of the day had returned to this pitch; everyone now queueing around setup that had somehow appeared without Dominique noticing. There were several wizards in stark white robes as well as over a dozen house elves now standing beside large floating containers and tables. She watched as several of the house elves began pulling small boxes out of one by one and stacking them up in small piles.

"Boxed lunches have been brought out here thanks to the commissary staff," came Lynch's booming voice from somewhere in the vicinity. "Though you're welcome to make a run for the actual commissary if you prefer. But, you only have an hour and tardiness upon return can affect your ranking."

An hour seemed like no time at all. The commissary was at least a ten minute walk in both directions, and once she found food and sat and ate, she'd have to be rushing back. She was starving and barely had any energy left to walk the length of the pitch to collect a box, let alone rish down the path and back to get a hot meal. It seemed that decision was made for her-and for most of the others as well, since the crowd was now moving almost as one down to where the food was being staged. A few people looked to be headed toward the exit and down the path, but Dominique couldn't help but notice that those people didn't look particularly worse for the wear. They weren't even sweating.

A smiley house elf handed her a box as she walked down the queue collecting the things she needed. She asked for a napkin, and another house elf happily obliged, acting as if she'd made his day by speaking to him. Behind her, someone asked what was in the box, to which one of the white robed wizards replied, "Ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, some cold veggies, and some crisps. "

"I'm a vegetarian, I don't eat ham."

A house elf immediately rushed off at that, returning barely ten seconds later with a new box for the person who'd spoken. "Cheese sandwich!"

"Can I get one of those? I don't like ham."

Dominique turned away once people were now hurling requests at the food service staff. With her hands full, she realized that once again she was eating outside. There was nowhere to hide in the shade this time, what with only a giant, exposed Quidditch pitch ahead of her. Instead, people had plopped themselves down in small groups or off on their own to the first place they could claim. She was about to do the same and make her way to the perimeter of the group, when someone suddenly called her name.

She turned to see a girl with curly, dark, shoulder length hair waving at her. It was Annabelle, the former Hufflepuff Seeker she'd seen the day before. She was sitting with three other people on the ground, though she was propped up on her knees to elevate herself above everyone else and be more visible. She was beckoning Dominique over to join them.

For the briefest of moments, she considered acting as if she couldn't hear her. She wasn't sure she had it in her to be social after the morning's drills. but they'd already made eye contact, so it seemed it was too late to really play dumb. She walked over, awkwardly smiling at the group of people who, besides Annabelle, she'd never seen before.

"Hi!" Annabelle said, smiling. "I knew that was you yesterday. You know, at the meeting? I waved but you looked away, so I thought maybe I had the wrong person." She gestured to a spot on the ground for Dominique to take. "Join us."

"Oh, right," Dominique said, slowly sitting where she was told. "I thought that was you too, but I wasn't sure."

Annabelle proceeded to introduce her to the people she was sitting with. One was called Leevis, and he was inhaling his sandwich and didn't even acknowledge the introduction. A girl called Blissa was beside him, and she at least politely waved. Last was a bloke called Andy, who was apparently the Hufflepuff Seeker before Annabelle, though Dominique didn't remember him. He'd taken the ham out of his sandwich and was poking holes into it for some reason.

Annabelle seemed to sense Dominique's confusion at the gesture and shrugged. "Seekers often are a little off, aren't we?" She turned back to the rest of them. "Anyway, this is Dominique. She's still in school. First time here."

Dominique said nothing, but forced a pinched smile as she turned to her box and began to open it. She was so hungry she would eat anything put in front of her.

"You enjoying yourself so far?" Annabelle asked, picking up her own apple to eat. "What'd you get into last night? Anything fun?"

She shook her head, picking up her sandwich for the first time and doing her best to not simply swallow it whole. "No, not really. Stayed back at the dorms and got some work done."

Annabelle's eyebrow cocked in a curious way. "Oh. Sounds...fun."

Dominique, not wanting to look like a complete loser, shook her head once more. "It's just that this place is rather overwhelming. Didn't really know where to go or what to do."

Annabelle considered that as she chewed on her apple. Even the way she did that seemed rather cool. She'd always seemed so grown up, even though she was only two years older than her. There was something about the way she carried herself, as if she had worlds of experience and life already behind her. It was an enviable quality—and Dominique wasn't often jealous of people. At school, Annabelle's circle of friends had always taken most of the attention due to being generally polished and perfect, but Annabelle wasn't perfect and still stood out. She wasn't one that would exactly be called pretty, but she was attractive in a way that wasn't really explainable. She said what she wanted to and people often loved her for it; Dominique said what she wanted and the opposite happened.

"I could see that," Annabelle said. "But you really can wander into any of the dorms and find something to do. Everyone's cool. Over in A, well, you're in A, so you know. It's for the straight and narrow. B usually has more dancing and music. C is more drinking games and pub atmosphere. And D's got…"

"Everything else combined," Leevis mumbled, speaking for the first time after having finally finished his sandwich. "And then so much more. You don't come out of D the same as you went in."

"It's only a bit hardcore," Annabelle said with a wave of her hand. "Don't listen to everyone else. They're trying to scare you. They like to keep the young ones out because they tend to be annoying. Anyway, I'm in C. I'm rooming with Felicity Crane, if you remember her? She was a Keeper for Slytherin. In my year?"

Dominique nodded. She remembered everyone who'd she's personally played Quidditch against.

"Then, Durrin, I know you remember him," she said, smiling at her. "He's down the hall. Him and Stu Reynolds. Loads of people I'm sure you remember, so don't be afraid to come by. We have a good time."

It was a nice invitation; one that she may take her up on it she ever decided to do something in this place. At the moment, however, she couldn't comprehend even attempting to go out if every day was as exhausting as this one. Where did these people even find the energy to stay up all night and then be worked to death by these coaches the next day? There had to be a secret she was missing.

"How do you even manage to party all night and then do this?" Dominique asked, making a general gesture around the pitch. "I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my entire life, and you look…"

"Relaxed? Refreshed?" Blissa asked, tossing her apple core back into her box. It was true. They all looked fresh and dewy, as if they'd maybe been sweating for a bit, but nothing a quick swipe with a towel wouldn't fix. Their hair was still mostly in place; no one looked like they wanted to collapse. None of them looked to be particularly in great shape, so it didn't make any sense for them to look this put together if they'd been training as she had.

Annabelle laughed. "You're on a different track, darling."

"A different track?"

She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. "It's your first year. You're unranked and untested."

"They're basically trying to kill you," said Andy, who'd just eaten his holey ham. "See how much they can push you and if you'll break."

"Something like that," Annabelle said. "See, this is my third time here. My first time here, they put me in that group they've got you in now. Group A, but I call it the Eager Elite. They made me fly faster than I ever had, drive with more precision, turn with more speed. They made me run, jump, and tumble a thousand times. If you could do it on a fucking broom, they made me do it. It was awful. They really do want to push you to see if you can hack it. I learned, I cannot. I mean, you remember from school? I was never the best Seeker. I was never going pro. And truth be told, I don't think I ever wanted to."

That was true. She wasn't going to say it, but at least Annabelle could admit it.

"So, after that first day, even with busting my arse as hard as I could, I got put down into Group B—I call it the Tryhards. Now, that wasn't such a bad thing because the Tryhards were less work. Still work, but I wasn't getting pushed as hard or looked at as much. That was when someone explained to me—like I am to you—that you're grouped based on your talent level. And that comes from the numbered ranking you're given near the end of this week. The Eager Elite are top level talent and the untested. Then tomorrow, you'll either stay there or slip down to another group based off how you did today."

She began ticking off her fingers. "As I said, after the Eager Elite, the Tryhards are made up of all the people who got a seven rankings last year. Then the Leftovers is for fives and sixes. Then the Good Time Group is one through four." She gestured around. "Most of the Good Time Group doesn't even show up until midday because they want to sleep in. They're really only here for the experience."

"And the lower you're ranked," said Blissa, pointing across the pitch to where the coaches were milling about, looking as if they were ready to start things up again, "the less they give a shit. The bottom group that actually showed up were playing tag on their brooms for the first forty-five minutes this morning before someone even bothered to get them a Snitch."

Dominique sat up straighter, wanting to make sure she understood correctly. "So, while I'm working my arse off, there are people...playing tag? That's it? That's all they have to do? I came close to splitting my skull open a few minutes ago."

The group around her nodded. "But keep in mind, they don't have dreams of Quidditch stardom. Do you?"

"I mean..." She didn't know how to finish that statement. It seemed a little childish to claim that she had big dreams of being a Quidditch star in front of her present company.

"And there's the difference," Annabelle said. "You get back what you put out around this place. They do mean that."

Dominique picked up her water bottle and drained it completely. Her thoughts lost on the weird hierarchy of this place. "And what group are you in?"

"These days?" Annabelle asked. "Happily a Leftover. I feel if I ever went lower than that, I'd just stop coming. I like the Quidditch, but in a lowkey way. A fun way. That's where we are in the Leftovers. It lets me enjoy playing and enjoy being here and see my mates. Life's got everyone so busy now, this week is a nice week to reconnect."

An amplified voice suddenly called out over the pitch that they had five minutes to clean up and return to their assigned pitches. Dominique struggled to stand up; her arms and legs felt like jelly after only a few minutes of sitting. The day was only half over….

"Well, see you later," Annabelle said, now even looking more relaxed and refreshed than earlier. "Oh, and have fun with Sabatino." She made a face that Dominique didn't find reassuring as she watched her collect her trash and walk away with her friends. She still had three more instructors and half a day worth of training to get through. She didn't know how she was going to manage this.


	9. Rivals

Coach Ahlgren had already been waiting for them after lunch. Tall, blonde, and ghostly pale with his trademark violet eyes, he began immediately preaching about the importance of accuracy in a Seeker's performance. It apparently didn't matter how fast you could fly or how quickly you could dive, if you couldn't detect and properly catch a Snitch, you were rubbish. Plain and simple.

He'd forced everyone to form two groups, all while releasing hundreds and hundreds of Snitch sized balls into the air. They were every color Dominique could possibly think of, though only one was golden. Their job was to take turns against each other to find and return the golden Snitch colored ball as quickly as possible. This seemed like a particularly daunting task given the inordinate amount of yellow balls in the mix that looked suspiciously like gold.

No one seemed to particularly excel at this task, whether it was because people wanted to seem quick and then returned with the wrong ball, or whether it was because they were being too cautious and refusing to even attempt to catch the incorrect ball. Dominique played both angles, but it wasn't until about a half an hour in that Giggleswick—and she hated to witness it—finally returned with the correct ball. He seemed particularly smug about it, but it at least ended the drill for all of them. She could at least be happy about that. Unlike the others, Ahlgren didn't dwell on his tasks. It appeared he had a lot of tests for them over the course of the next few hours.

He made them pick out a Snitch from a lineup of ten dummy ones from across the pitch, saying that a good Seeker should never mistake the Snitch for some other random object. He made them study two different Snitches—one slightly different from the other—and then proceed to hunt the correct one. It wasn't until the very end of their session that he let them run a drill that actually felt like real Quidditch. It unfortunately was short lived, for Wagner appeared shortly after it had started.

Wagner called for all of them to take a break while she chatted with Ahlgren, and while Dominique could only speak for herself, it seemed they all happily obliged. Of all the sessions of that day, she'd hated Ahlgren's the least. Yes, a lot of his methods had been dumb, but she'd gotten to enjoy some of the process. She'd actually gotten to play a bit of Quidditch.

Once they were called to attention once more, Wagner had them all split into pairs or groups of three. She placed the invitation athletes together, but gave everyone else a choice as to whom their partner would be. A cold prickle danced at the back of Dominique's neck as she realized what was about to happen right now. Sure enough, the Durmstrang kids all grouped off into a trio and she was sure the Beauxbatons' pair would do the same. That meant all that would be left would be-

She glanced at Giggleswick, who was also looking at her. This wasn't a silent shared interest in partnering up; rather he also seemed to be realizing where this was going. They both looked over at the two Beauxbatons' kids—both boys, one being Adrien the awful. Her only chance at not getting stuck with Giggleswick or Adrien would be to speak up that moment to the other kid.

"Hey, you!" she yelled, just as Giggleswick called out, "Hey, Gabriel!"

Shit, he knew his name. She really should do a better job of talking to people.

The boy called Gabriel turned to look, his gaze on Giggleswick considering he'd actually gotten his proper attention. Without missing a beat, Giggleswick asked if he wanted to partner with him. Gabriel seemed to jump at the chance, which said more about not being stuck with Adrien than anything else. When Adrien looked shocked, Gabriel shrugged half-heartedly.

"If we're all decided," Wagner said, "everyone up on your brooms."

Dominique looked at Adrien, already annoyed. He threw her a friendly, but stupid smile that didn't evoke much confidence in her. He better not fuck this up.

Wagner explained that while Seekers are a lonely and solo position, learning to be in sync with the rest of the team was a vital part of Seeking. With that, she insisted on team building drills. She'd brought broom connectors—a device mostly used by parents when they were teaching younger children how to fly—but these were much larger. She insisted on everyone connecting up to their partner and learning to fly as one unit; seeking the Snitch together and communicating strengths.

This was without question the dumbest exercise of the day. Dominique hated every moment of it. She'd soon find that Adrien wasn't as fast as she was; he wasn't as willing to take risks. He always had to be shown where the Snitch was on the pitch, never finding it on his own; once he would spot it, he had no real drive to get it. Hate Giggleswick as she may, at least he was doing his bloody job out there. Adrien felt like a large weight that Dominique couldn't shake.

The Durmstrang trio surprisingly did the best, probably because they all seemed to be friends. The invitation duo did well, but only a bit better than Giggleswick and Gabriel. It was the first time all day that Dominique had seen them really struggle at anything, which was probably due to the fact that like all proper Seekers, they were used to working alone. She and Adrien were barely finishing tasks, and she was doing all of the heavy lifting. If this kid ruined her chances, she'd personally break his broom over his head.

"At your school," Dominique barked at him after their fourth feeble attempt to catch a Snitch together, "have you actually ever caught a Snitch?"

"No," he said, sweating as though he was leaking from somewhere. "My house team isn't very good this year. Or most years, actually. We're more concerned with academics."

"Fucking fantastic," she muttered, hearing Wagner blow her whistle to signal everyone to return to the ground. Thank Merlin. Hopefully that meant this drill was over forever.

They were told to dismount and rest once more, which seemed strange considering they'd just had a break an hour before. This would make for the quickest workout between breaks all day—not that anyone was complaining. Dominique welcomed it now that she could slowly feel the adrenaline of the day starting to wear off in waves with each passing hour. Her body was sore and bruised. Her muscles ached and she'd probably lost her body weight in sweat no matter how fast she rehydrated. She was dreaming of a shower, something to eat, and her bed. There was absolutely no way she was going to possibly be able to do anything more than walk to the commissary and walk back to the dorms after this. If she made it to the shower—and she really needed to—that would be considered a win.

Wagner had called all of the Beauxbatons' athletes—both the former and current—over to where she had sat herself on the ground. They were having a conversation about something. Hopefully she was lecturing Adrien about how rubbish he was and how he bogged down that poor, determined, naturally talented Hogwarts' girl from being her best.

After observing for a moment, she plopped down in the grass and used her arm to shield the mid-afternoon sun from her eyes. She wondered if the other positions were having a day as hellish as she was. They had to be. This was what this camp was all about for the newcomers. Like Annabelle said, they wanted to see who would break and who could hack it. Professional Quidditch wasn't an easy life, but she thought she could do it. This was exhausting, but she could get used to it. She'd probably have to start working out more regularly.

"Hogwarts," Wagner called out all of the sudden, causing Dominique to drop her arm and look up. Giggleswick was looking, too. She was beckoning the two of them to replace the Beauxbatons' students who had since retreated to their own spot in the grass.

Dominique stood—slowly and achily—brushed herself off. Giggleswick had gotten the jump on her and was already now sitting down in front of Wagner, so she had to hustle a bit to join him. She wasn't aware this was a conference until taking her seat.

"Good afternoon," she said, scribbling down some things in a notebook in front of her. "Good day so far?"

Dominique blinked. She noticed Giggleswick beside her also awkwardly shuffling his weight a little. Were they actually having a chat? None of the coaches had casually addressed them since Lynch that morning, and that had only been first thing. She'd sort of gotten used to them being nothing more than authority figures who barked tasks at them and lectured them at great length about their personal definition of what made a great Seeker. This didn't seem right.

Wagner looked up at them, awaiting a response. She was older than the others, her hair a salt and pepper color and her skin wrinkling around the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," they both said in mixed unison.

"Nice to hear," she said, returning to her notes and writing something down. "So, tell me about yourselves. From a Quidditch perspective, that is. I'm not looking for the name of your cats or places of birth." She looked back up at Dominique. "Go on. You first."

She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure where to begin. She'd been playing since she was a small child and loved the sport more than anything, but perhaps she wanted more concrete stats. "Um, I've been playing on my house team for four years now, going into my fifth—"

"How old were you when you made your team?" she interrupted.

"Thirteen."

"And you?" she asked Giggleswick.

"Thirteen, as well. I've played just as many years."

She nodded, but didn't look up from her notes. "And at Hogwarts, you start school at eleven, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She hummed as if to acknowledge that. "I always assume it's the same as Durmstrang. We started at ten." She stopped writing and looked up once more. "And how would you say you are as a Seeker? Simple answer, please. Good, bad, somewhere in between?"

"Good," they both answered, neither hesitating.

She smirked at them both. Her expression seemed to say she'd heard that before, but it wasn't always the case. "And your teams at school, do they play each other often?"

"Twice a season, not counting the House Cup," Dominique said.

"Would you consider each other a rival?" she asked. "A worthy rival that is. Someone you find to be a challenge."

They both nodded, neither seemingly wanted to verbalize their answers with a response. Dominique sure didn't. She didn't want to acknowledge him as anything worthy.

"Are the two of you friendly off the pitch with each other?"

Giggleswick let out a small laugh and Dominique bit her tongue at that question. Neither answered, though.

"Am I to assume that's a no?"

"We're not friends," Giggleswick said bluntly.

Wagner nodded. "A true rivalry, then. Must feel good to beat the other when that happens."

"Absolutely," Dominique said.

"Who do you think has won more matches between the two of you?"

Dominique spoke first. "I don't know the exact numbers, but I'd say me."

"I disagree with that," Giggleswick countered. "I have seen the exact stats. Numbers don't lie."

"I'd like to see these bloody numbers," she mumbled, looking away from him. "They sound imaginary."

Wagner held up her hand to stop them. She somehow managed to look both bored and amused by this at the exact same time. "And you both said you consider yourselves to be good Seekers?" They both nodded again, causing her to look at them one by one. "What would your rival here say about that?"

For the first time in the history of knowing each other, Dominique and Giggleswick shared a look that didn't stem from a place of disdain or anger. It was confusion, plain and simple. What was this lady playing at? She wasn't sure what exactly what she was supposed to say.

Wagner was staring at them in an anticipatory way, clearly waiting for a response. Dominique licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Beside her Giggleswick was again moving awkwardly in his spot.

"It's a simple question," she said. "Do you or do you not consider your rival to be good at their position?"

Dominique looked down at her lap before looking back up. It seemed they both were waiting for the other to speak first. It was a precarious situation. She could come off as the bigger person and speak the truth, but that would also leave him open to say whatever he wanted without rebuttal. She both wanted to control this narrative but also not screw herself. She couldn't let Giggleswick get the chance to set the tone.

Wagner looked impatient. She seemed to be tiring of what probably seemed like ridiculous school yard drama between two teenagers. That would be a worse look than simply being branded a bad Seeker.

"Yes, I do," Dominique finally said.

Wagner smiled at her before her gaze immediately turned onto Giggleswick. "I need an answer from you." There was impatience in her tone. Just as Dominique had suspected, the drama was grating on her more than any answer he could possibly give.

"Yes," he muttered through gritted teeth. "She's...she's fine."

She fought every urge in her body to roll her eyes. Fine? Just fine? She wanted to smack him. The yes would have been perfectly sufficient. The fucking nerve.

"And what do you consider her strongest skill on the pitch?" Wagner asked him without missing a beat.

Dominique let her head slowly turn toward him, a smirk growing as she did. She didn't even care if the question was coming right back at her. She had to hear this.

Like the prat he was, he made it seem as if he was searching the back of his brain for an answer to that. His eyes looked up and began absently scanning the sky, as if he was hoping the answer would fall out of it. He inhaled deeply before letting the air out in one long burst.

"Let's not take all day," Wagner mused. "These really are basic questions."

"She dives well," he said, looking directly at Wagner. "She can come down on a Snitch from most points on the pitch and get it. Even the really tight spots."

Dominique pursed her lips in a satisfying way. That was a decent answer and the truth. In a head to head tight dive with him, she would beat him every time. She'd realized that ages ago, but she'd never actually considered that he'd given it any thought. Knowing he had made her feel a bit smug.

Wagner nodded, apparently finding that answer acceptable. She glanced back at Dominique; her expression urged her to answer the same question.

"He's got good eyes," she offered, having already anticipated this. "He'll get the Snitch in his sights before the other Seeker has had a chance to know it's even appeared."

"Even before yourself?" she asked.

She took a slow breath. "On occasion. Yes. But I've developed my own strategy of dealing with him when we play."

"Have you?" she asked. "I'm always a fan of well thought strategy. Care to share?"

She hesitated for a moment. Was this a trick? She gave Giggleswick a sideways glance. "If he's sitting beside me, I'd rather not."

Wagner smirked slightly, as if she understood, before placing her notebook down on the ground beside her. "If you can't speak to your opponents strengths, are you even aware of them? Pride and ego needs to be put in place if you ever hope to make it to the next level."

Dominique nodded, though Giggleswick sat silently beside her listening.

"I'll speak to that more later. For now, we are done here." She picked up her notebook again and immediately called out, "Durmstrang!"

Wagner spoke more than any of the other coaches. Even after she'd concluded all of her meetings, she then gathered them all around to lecture them more about the psychological aspect of Quidditch, both between teammates and opposing teams. She made them perform more team building exercises with each other, which Dominique found tedious and boring. Wagner had decided—unsurprisingly—to group her with Giggleswick to observe them; whether she was attempting to rattle them both or not, she couldn't be sure. Either way, Dominique refused to let this simple exercise cost her points because she and Giggleswick couldn't get along.

"Just do it right the first time and we'll be done," Dominique hissed at him as they began walking to the center of the pitch. They were required to complete an obstacle course on foot, all while she held one end of a stick and he held the other. Neither could let go, and neither could continue until both completed each task together. "You know she's watching us to see if we can actually put shit aside and finish something."

"I'm not worried about me."

"At least one of us isn't."

"Just shut it and get it fucking done, would you?" he sneered, right as they reached the starting point. Hatred. That was the only thing either of them could muster out of their eyes as they stared at each other, readying themselves to begin. She even let him count down.

They'd done well, especially considering they seemed to be the only pair there that actively disliked each other. She'd been forced to run the course eight times—twice with him, and six times with other people—and she and him had gotten her top two best finishing times, as well as his best times. She hated—absolutely hated—to admit this, and would deny it anyone ever asked, but the fact was she and him were very similar athletes with similar habits. She also knew him well enough as a competitor to know what he was going to do; she was already adjusting before they would get stuck. Not that she wanted to do it ever again. In both instances—despite getting great times—they'd both dropped the stick once they'd finished as if it were dirty and tainted. They didn't even look at each other.

When it was time to switch to the last and final training exercise of the day, Dominique welcomed it with open arms. One, because she was that much closer to being done. Two, because she was rather excited to train with Sabatino, who was a bit of a celebrity. Not that all the coaches weren't Quidditch greats, but they were all older and retired. Sabatino was young and he was still actively in the sport. He was currently part of the Quidditch system and understood how it worked today. He could add fresh expertise. It seemed like a tremendous opportunity.

Or so she thought.

Sabatino didn't even introduce himself or half attempt to greet them. He'd walked over and immediately barked why didn't any of them have their brooms ready, despite Wagner telling them to put them away. Even once they had gone to fetch them, it wasn't fast enough. Nothing was fast enough. That became the theme of the day—nothing was fast enough.

He had them do laps on their brooms. And then more laps. Then more after those. Dominique had stopped counting after seventy-five, but apparently after the hundred of so she ended up doing, none of them were fast enough.

"Can you even catch a Snitch at that speed?" he'd said to her once he'd finally had them land to berate and bash each and every one of them. Even Valentina, who had proven to be the fastest one of the bunch, was somehow still not fast enough. "And this is the top group!? The slowest and weakest Seeker in professional Quidditch is currently ten times faster than any of you! None of you will make it at those speeds!"

He had no constructive criticism. He had no tips. He had no explanations. He apparently assumed that the phrase, "That's not fast enough," was enough to make them move faster. Dominique pushed herself as hard as she could go—for hours—and she was fairly certain she'd shaved ten seconds off her personal best, but all she heard back was, "You may as well be going backwards! Is that considered fast at your little school?"

She hadn't even gotten it as bad as some of the weaker Seekers. Adrien the awful had started crying once Sabatino called him abysmal; the stress of an already terrible day pushing him to his breaking point. His school mate, the one called Gabriel, had Sabatino in his face calling him a disgrace to his alma mater, Beauxbatons. While he didn't cry, his expression screamed that he'd checked out entirely.

Giggleswick had gotten an earful, one that even Dominique didn't think he deserved. While she knew Sabatino was fast, she personally wanted to know his best time, because he did nothing more than zoom around on his broom at a leisurely pace. Nothing, absolutely nothing, pleased this man. It took every bone in her body to not curse him, especially once they'd reached the end and he'd loudly yelled out, "This was a waste of my fucking time! Get the fuck off my pitch!"

But at least they were done. She'd found the walk back to the center of camp felt as if it stretched for miles. She wanted to collapse; even the act of carrying her broom back up the dorms seemed an impossible task. It felt twice as heavy as she was used to, but then again so did her arm, her head, and her legs. Walking was turning out to be a challenge.

"Let me help," came a voice from behind her, one that was now plucking her broom out of her hands. "I remember my first day and how I wanted to throw this thing into woods and never see it again."

It was Annabelle, a dewy glow on her face, as if she'd just gone for a quick jog. Her hair was still perfectly neat and her clothes were not drenched in sweat. She looked nothing like a drowned rat, which is what Dominique felt like. Annabelle could probably pop in for dinner and no one would even be any wiser that she'd been out on the pitch all day. On the contrary, if Dominique didn't find a shower soon, people might try to put her in a bin.

"And how was the rest of your day?" Annabelle joked, carrying both brooms over her shoulder. "Lots of fun?"

"I fucking hate Quidditch," Dominique muttered, a phrase she'd never once thought she'd ever say. "I hate everything."

"Everyone does after their first day," Annabelle said. "But it gets better. Well, it did for me, but as I said, I got sent straight down to the Tryhards after my first day. You were always a really good Seeker. You always beat me."

Dominique's current mood was not lending to politeness, but she still managed to stop herself from making a snarky comment about how beating her was setting a pretty low bar. Annabelle was being kind and carrying her broom. She needed to keep that to herself.

"Plus, you're used to the routine now," she continued. "You'll get more and more used to it every day."

"I hate Sabatino."

Annabelle made a face. "Right? Isn't he the worst? This is his first year here. The last few years, the speed bloke was this older man by the name of LeDean. I don't know what happened to him, but I do know that I need Sabatino to fix whatever his issues are so that he can go back to his team in Italy." She sighed. "And to think, I was excited when I'd first heard he was here because I remember watching him in the World Cup last year. I was there."

"I was too. And I remember watching him not catch the Snitch."

"Probably why he's so bitter and angry and set on making our lives hell," Annabelle said. "I can only imagine what he's making your group do."

"Enough to make me hate him," she said, noticing other people from other positions were beginning to appear on the converging paths after finishing their own days. "I just want to play real Quidditch."

"You've got another two days of this before that happens, darling," she said, looking up ahead on the path. "Of course, you can always find a pick-up game around there. There will be people out this evening playing."

"I don't have the energy to do anything right now. I can barely stand."

"Now you know what everyone starts drinking." Annabelle laughed, her eyes still locked straight ahead. "Hey, are those Keepers, you think? The ones coming from the far fields?

"I have no idea."

"I think they are," she said, handing Dominique her broom back. "I need to run and catch some people, but if you get the itch to go out, come find me tonight. I'm in room 122 over in C, but we have plans to go to B Dorm tonight. Maybe do some dancing."

Dominique stared at her as if she had grown a second head. She wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. Thankfully, her expression did all the talking for her.

"Ok. Ok, but you never know, maybe you'll get a second wind," she said. "Either way, I'll see you tomorrow." She gave her a quick wave as she started jogging off. She actually had the energy to jog...

Dominique gathered what little strength she had left and pushed herself to the dorms. The common area was much quieter than it had been lately, and Dominique had to wonder if everyone else was as beat up as she was. She did hear a lot of commotion coming from down the corridor in the direction of the showers, but she was in no mood to fight people for a spot-even if she did desperately need one.

She decided to wait and instead lie down for a few minutes—or hours, weeks, months—whatever it took. As she reached her door and pushed it open, she was met with Jack standing there looking about as awful as she felt. He was covered in dirt and grass while sweat plastered his hair down onto his head. His right eye was slightly swollen and she'd caught him having just removed a large ice pack off of his left shoulder.

"You look like shit," she said.

"I'd check out a mirror if I were you," he said, mustering a small grin. "Then you can talk."

"What happened to your arm?" she asked as she rested her broom up against the wall. It started to slide down the length of it, though she didn't bother to catch it. She didn't care.

He held up his left arm, as if testing how far he could move it comfortably. "Nothing happened. It's my batting arm. I've probably used it more today than in the last four years combined. It hurts like hell."

"Fuck this day…" she mumbled.

He nodded as she sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked her trainers off. This room reeked of stale sweaty air, but she didn't mind it. It reminded her of the changing rooms at Hogwarts, a safe place where she still loved Quidditch and the sport made her happy. She was debating as to whether she should say to hell with her clean bedsheets and just lie down as dirty as she was, or whether she should suck it up and take a shower first. Both had their pros and cons.

"Will you hold this for a second," Jack asked, handing her his ice pack. She did what she was asked and watched as he pulled off his shirt-which sent two immediately conflicting thoughts surging through her head. One, she apparently wasn't so tired that the sight of his chest, arms, and abs didn't give her a quick little thrill. Two, his shirt stunk, and the whiff she got immediately killed any sort of excitement that had coursed through the rest of her.

He took his ice pack back before saying, "I'm going to take a shower."

"Please do. You smell."

"You don't exactly smell like roses yourself," he said, tossing his shirt at her. As her luck would have it, it managed to land directly on her head.

She would manage a shower and a trip to the commissary before falling asleep that night, and that was only because Jack had sworn he'd heard about a special drink in the commissary that would help with recovery. His arm was bothering him to the point where he was nervous it would swell up overnight and render him useless the following day, so he had been willing to try anything. Dominique sensed that after how much she had pushed herself, she'd wake up stiff and sore and also not at the top of her game. She was willing to at least give it a shot.

It was at the commissary that a house elf had given them a bottle of a foul, greenish looking drink. It was apparently quite popular since she watched as at least ten other people came and requested the same while they were standing there. It smelled as bad as it looked and tasted even worse. Jack tried to take it like a large shot, but he gagged on it before forcing himself to drink it down. Dominique already knew her weak stomach was going to fight her on this.

"This tastes like death," she said, pinching her nose as she attempted to drink it down. "This better work."

"You're no worse off if it doesn't," he said, waving to someone behind her who must have been approaching. When she turned, she saw a very exhausted looking Zara drawing closer. Her eyes shot straight to Dominique's drink.

"Is that it? It looks vile."

Dominique forced another gulp down, immediately wanting to wretch. "Yes, it is."

Zara didn't seem happy to hear that, but still disappeared up to the counter to retrieve two bottles. When she returned, she stopped by the pair of them again and asked, "Why is it warm?"

"Let's not ask questions we don't want the answer to," said Jack.

"This would not be any better cold," Dominique sputtered, fighting a huge urge to be sick.

"I thought this place was supposed to be fun," Zara muttered, a pained look on her face as she watched Dominique finally force down the last of hers. Both she and Jack were staring as an involuntary look of disgust now completely overcame her. She needed to not speak for a few minutes in order to keep this down.

"For some people it is," Jack said, gesturing to a bunch of people who had just walked in to the commissary. They were clearly already drunk and looking to eat dinner as they laughed and obnoxiously drew attention to themselves. Dominique hated them, though she had little time to dwell since Jack was already saying, "If you're done, let's go. I'm exhausted."

She nodded. Must not talk. Will be sick if mouth opens.

"Erin's already asleep," Zara said, following them toward the exit. "I'm going to have to wake her to give her this, and I'm sure she's going to absolutely love me for it."

"She'll thank you in the morning since it is supposed to help," Jack said as he shrugged, causing himself to wince due to his shoulder. "It better help."

"And tomorrow's more of the same shit," Zara muttered. "We don't even get to play proper Quidditch until Thursday."

Dominique groaned at that, which was about the most she could do without being sick. Zara's expression said she agreed with her as they reached the exit. They had stepped out of the way to let people pass, noticing that of the small group that entered, Dominique recognized two of them. One was Gabriel from earlier and the other was Vanessa, the pretty girl from orientation who'd had a thing for Jack. She didn't look as cute today though; then again, no one did.

"Hey," said Gabriel once he saw Dominique. "I know you."

Dominique let her expression acknowledge him, but was still not quite ready to speak. This came in handy since she now wouldn't be forced to be social with random people. Beside her, Jack and Vanessa were exchanging happy hellos while Zara seemed to recognize her and another boy they were with. They must all have been Chasers—that or Zara really did just know everyone in the world.

"You're quite good," Gabriel added. "On the pitch, I mean."

She let herself smile at the compliment. She couldn't return the compliment even to just be polite, because the truth was, he wasn't good. Outside of the two invitation Seekers, one of the Durmstrang girls, Giggleswick and herself, the rest were all pretty rubbish.

Gabriel turned to his friends. "She got paired up with Adrien for a team building exercise today." He said it almost as a joke, one that all of his friends were apparently in on because there was now laughter mixed with looks of pity. One of the random boys even said, "Sorry."

At the same time, Zara had grabbed the door and then stepped outside. While it was nice to hear someone compliment her skills, she wasn't in the mood to talk to these people. She threw them all a cursory nod before following after Zara. They'd gotten several paces away from the building before Zara turned around to look, noticing that Jack hadn't followed.

Dominique waved her on. "He's probably flirting with that girl. They've been making eyes at each other since yesterday."

"Really?" she asked, turning back around. "She was in my group today. Vanessa, I think? She was really sweet. I can't say I'd be surprised if she didn't get dropped down to another level, though. Not the strongest Chaser I've ever seen."

Dominique said nothing. She couldn't. She suddenly felt a swirling and uncomfortable feeling surge in her stomach. The green stuff was coming back up. She needed to find a receptacle of some kind because-

She made a mad dash for a nearby bush. There was no time to waste and she was sick right inside the bushes. Oddly enough though, she already felt worlds better; even if it had tasted the same going up as it had going down.

* * *

A/N: Yay. Quidditch. Woo. Hoo. That's all I'll say about that, but I expanded upon in my profile if you feel like checking those thoughts out.

THANKS AGAIN FOR THE REVIEWS! Keep them coming because it makes me feel bad for not posting faster. Ngl, sometimes I read one and I have to fight the urge to upload again before I planned because I know it'll answer a question someone just asked. Or that it's getting us closer to where I want to be in the story. It's a struggle to pace this thing.

Anyway, have we had enough set up? Shall we move the plot along? See what else there is to do at the Trials other than Quidditch? Yeah, I think so too. Stay tuned.


	10. Wild Hippogriffs

The following morning, Dominique awoke to find two things: a slight, but tolerable soreness in her arms and Jack's vacant bed. She was only surprised by one since she'd anticipated being in far more pain than morning than her body suggested. That green drink must have done something for her even if she'd only managed to keep it down for ten minutes; it must have done wonders for Jack if he was already gone—presumably running or working out. She'd noticed last night that he hadn't wanted his ice pack once he'd returned—about ten minutes after she had-and that he was wincing less and less with every passing minute. She'd also been right to assume that he'd stopped to chat up Vanessa in the commissary, seeing as they could understand each other now. They apparently had very loose plans to hang out soon.

It was already seven o'clock in the morning, and she was due to the pitch in an hour. Now that she felt good, she was ready to face another day—-at least she told herself that. She didn't quite know how she felt, but she did know that she had just enough time to get dressed and get down to the commissary for breakfast before having to start this nightmare over again.

She hurried to get ready and grab her broom, making her way down to the commissary with a lot of other stragglers. There were plenty of people around who had been up for hours and looked loose and ready. Some were sipping coffee; others were doing calisthenics in the courtyard. There was also a pair of individuals who clearly hadn't gone to sleep that night and they were happily singing an old drinking song on a bench in the Square.

As she entered the commissary, she immediately grabbed a tray and began helping herself to bowls of fruit and spoonfuls of eggs. There were waffles that looked amazing, but she wasn't sure a heavy waffle was the way to go before her day. Her stomach was still a little touchy after that drink last night.

"Good morning," came a voice from behind her, and when she turned she saw Annabelle standing there with her own tray of food in her hand. She looked to be in good spirits, despite the fact that her eyes looked tired. Dominique suspected that had less to do with her exhaustion form Quidditch and more to do with a late night out.

"Morning," Dominique said, clutching her own tray. "Sleep well?"

"Slept barely. Need coffee," she said, turning abruptly and walking away. Dominique got the impression that Annabelle had wanted her to follow, but she wasn't completely sure. One glance around the room, which revealed no one else she knew, made her decide that she may as well.

At the table she'd walked to, Dominique immediately recognized some familiar faces; all currently absorbed in their own separate worlds. Durrin was absently chewing on a piece of toast, his gaze a little spacey and—presumably—hungover. Across the table from him, Stuart Reynolds was pouring over a copy of the Daily Prophet. He seemed very involved in whatever he was reading and didn't even notice them approach.

"Look who I found," Annabelle said, taking the seat next to Stuart and across from Durrin. She made a grand sort of presenting gesture, which made Dominique feel stupid. Yes, she knew Durrin, but she'd barely ever spoken to Stuart. The whole lot of them had been older and she'd barely crossed paths with any of them outside of Qudditch. Victoire had dipped in and out of their clique, and Louis was well-known enough to have gotten their attention, but she'd steered away from them. If, by chance, he remembered her from Quidditch, she was fairly certain those memories weren't very good.

Stuart didn't even look up from his paper, even with Annabelle's over the top announcement. Durrin—-the one she actually knew—-barely acknowledged her. He'd given her a quick nod and gone back to his toast.

"Such a warm reception," Annabelle mumbled, specifically looking at Durrin. "Just yesterday you said you were hoping to catch up with her."

"And I meant that," he muttered, "but I'm also barely awake."

"Ignore him," she said, now smiling at Dominique. "Sit down."

She did as she was told and sat next to Durrin. Across from her, Stuart had raised his paper up in front of his face, now creating a barrier wall between them. He didn't seem to do it on purpose, but it was a bit of an icy move.

"I was telling Durr yesterday about how we ran into each other," Annabelle said, sipping her coffee. "And about how your day was awful. It brought back memories from when we were still in school and visiting here on our trip. I had so much fun that week."

"Really?" Dominique asked. "Because I've been wondering when the fun part is supposed to begin."

"That was the best bloody week ever," Durrin said, now looking as if he was forcing himself to wake up. "It was the sort of trip you could never duplicate, you know? Something about your first time." He looked at Annabelle. "Speaking of first times, that week was when I first asked you out."

She smiled. "I do remember that. That's a really sweet memory."

"Also the first time you let me feel you up."

Her smile slid off of her face. She threw Dominique an apologetic look, as if to say she was sorry she had to hear that. "I remember that, too."

Durrin smirked. "But not the last time."

"Durr!"

"Ok, sorry," he said, laughing before thankfully changing the subject. "Anyway, Nicki, how have you been? Get into anything fun around here?"

She shrugged, more out of obligation rather than to answer his question. She really didn't know what to say since she'd done nothing more than get through her tasks and fall asleep so far.

"You went back to the dorm last night and passed out, didn't you?" asked Annabelle.

"Yes."

Durrin pulled a pitiful face. "Why?"

"Because I was dying," she argued. "I've never been that tired before in my life."

"To be fair," Annabelle said to Durrin, "she is in the Eager Elite group. And remember, they work you to death."

Durrin's eyebrows rose slowly at something Annabelle had said. "I'm sorry, but the eager, what?"

"I've told you before," Annabelle said between bites. "The groups they sort everyone into. I have names for them. Eager Elite is the top group."

He inhaled slowly, as if that explanation did ring some sort of bell in his head. "Right, I just call it the top group since that would make actual sense." He turned back to Dominique. "But you've always been hell bent on being the best bloody Seeker in the world, so I get it. Live your dream or whatever." He suddenly reached over and picked up a paper napkin off the table and began to crumble it into a ball. "But if you do go pro, don't forget about me. I feel fairly responsible for getting you started."

She made a face. "Right, I'm sure my years of hard work meant very little."

"See, you understand," he said before taking his napkin ball and flinging it at the back of Stuart's newspaper. It bounced right off and onto the table. "Hey plonker, you're not at work. Stop reading about the stupid goblin extortion."

Stuart barely flinched, though he did speak for the first time since Dominique had sat. "Relax. I'm almost done."

She'd looked to see the headline on the front of his Prophet—it had to do with a huge Gringotts scandal three months ago, where a questionable group of wizards and goblins had somehow compromised a highly protected vault within the bank. Her parents had talked about it non-stop when she'd arrived back from Hogwarts, but she only vaguely knew the details. The headline seemed to indicate that the accused were headed to trial.

"Stu's in deep with that one," said Annabelle, watching Dominique inspect the paper. "He's been helping work on the defense."

"Him and about twenty-five other people," Durrin corrected. "He's junior level acting like he's the bloody lead."

"Give him a break," said Annabelle. "Can't make it to senior level if you don't bust your arse at junior."

"He never stops working, which-"

She made a face that cut Durrin down mid-sentence. "You cannot possibly say anyone works more than you do."

"He does it by choice. I have to!"

"Durrin works at St. Mungo's," Annabelle explained to Dominique. "In antidote research. I'm not kidding when I say he's never not-"

"She's aware," Durrin interrupted. "She knows Ted since he's dating her sister."

"Oh, riiiiiiiiight," she said slowly. "Him."

"Don't bring it up," Durrin mumbled to Annabelle. just as Stuart suddenly put down his newspaper.

"Bring what up?" he asked, picking up the paper ball that had been thrown at him and now tossing it back at Durrin's head. He went to dodge it, but it plunked straight off of his forehead. In the past, Dominique had actually seen him save a few Quaffles that way.

"Forget it," Durrin said dismissively, seemingly eager to change the subject. "Nice of you to join us today."

"You know, you can piss right off," Stuart said in a cheerful sort of way, reaching over to pluck a piece of toast off of Annabelle's plate. "I've spent the last few months killing myself over that case, so forgive me for wanting to catch up and make sure I'm not going back to a shit show in a few days." He stopped speaking when he noticed Dominique across the table. He blinked a few times. "Um, hello?"

"Hi."

"Where did you…? Have you been there the whole time?"

She shrugged, while Annabelle added, "It's been a bit, yeah."

He frowned a little and ran a quick hand through his hair. "Seriously? I didn't even notice."

"Not a single person is surprised," Durrin muttered, shaking his head at him.

Stuart completely ignored him and instead looked at Dominique. "Sorry. I can get distracted." He then smiled in a way that she immediately recognized. She'd seen her brother perfect that exact smile over the years; people could never stay mad when that smile appeared.

Stuart actually reminded her of Louis in some ways. Not in appearance or even personality really, but the way he carried himself and knew exactly the right move or thing to say. People ate it up. He'd easily been the most popular boy at Hogwarts for years and girls would do anything to get a moment of his attention. Even her own sister had been absolutely mad about him—resulting in a brief fling that ultimately went nowhere. Sarah and Natalie—when they were still friends—would make a point to attend Ravenclaw's Quidditch practice just to watch him so they could swoon and giggle. Dominique had always found it all very annoying since he wasn't even that cute. Plus, he was a wide flying Chaser that often took up too much space on the pitch instead of simply flying in his lane, and that annoyed her about him more than anything.

"See," said Durrin, pointing at Stuart. "This is what I mean. You're half here and half back at the Ministry. You're supposed to be having fun with us. Drinking, chasing girls-"

"Since when has Stu ever had to chase a girl?" Annabelle asked, taking his Prophet and sliding it across the table toward herself. She began absently reading over the front page. "I've only ever seen him catching the ones that fall all over themselves around him."

"You've got some strange ideas about my social life," Stuart said before he stood up. "I'm getting food."

He walked away at that, and both Annabelle and Durrin watched him go before the latter of the two muttered, "This has got to be his last year doing this. He's getting too swept up in Ministry life."

She nodded a little solemnly. "Soon it'll just be the two of us. It's already gone from six to three." She turned her attention back to Dominique. "Enjoy your friends and seventh year while it lasts, because soon you're all in different directions and lucky to even get half of them in a room together."

"Seriously," Durrin agreed, also glancing over at Dominique. "Speaking of seventh year, are you ready?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I suppose. Not looking forward to exams."

"Fuck those," he said. "I hated N.E.W.T.s. The hours of studying..."

"So much studying," Annabelle agreed. "And by the second half of the year, if you're not sleeping, eating, or in class, you're studying."

"Sleeping?" Durrin asked. "Who had time for sleep? I sure didn't." He shrugged. "But I did really well. I guess it paid off."

"Did you sit five subjects?" Dominique asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I ended up with nine N.E.W.T.s. Fucked up my History of Magic written exam. How many are you sitting?"

"Five. I'd be happy if I could get seven or eight."

"I only ended up with eight," Annabelle said, just as Stuart returned to the table with a large plate of fruit. "Completely mucked up my Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exam and my Muggle Studies written exam. How many N.E.W.T.s did you get, Stu?"

"Twelve."

"Such a bloody overachiever," Durrin said with a roll of his eyes, though Dominique was a little surprised. She'd heard he was clever—though, that had been from Victoire during the heyday of her obsession with him—but she hadn't expected him to be at the level of achieving twelve N.E.W.T.s. Even her sister and Ted had only gotten ten, and she'd always taken them to be top of the class kinds of intelligent.

"If you want to talk overachieving," Dominique said, "my brother's already sat two subjects and got four N.E.W.T.s."

"Wait, as a sixth-year?" Durrin asked. "They let him take N.E.W.T.s early?"

"Only Charms and Herbology," she said, "and he had to jump through a lot of hoops. Practically all of the professors had to sign off on it. Longbottom stressed constantly that he could not retake them, and that since he may do better after another year at school it may not be the best idea to do it. But, they eventually let him. And he got top marks. He's planning on sitting five more subjects this year."

Durrin's jaw dropped. "Wow. I almost don't believe it since he also manages to have a social life and friends and-"

"And he's gorgeous," Annabelle said with a little smile.

Durrin pulled a face before Dominique could. "Well, that's not what I was going to say, but sure. Go with that."

"Who's your brother?" Stuart asked, his fork hovering over his plate as he chewed on what appeared to be a cantaloupe.

Dominique stared at him. She wasn't used to people not automatically knowing that she and Louis were a set, but it seemed that was the way things were headed these days. She was going to have to get used to it. "Louis Weasley."

Stuart's face twisted into something Dominique could only describe as confusion. He hadn't expected that answer. "Wait. Weasley? Ok, now I'm really going to come off as a rude prat but...what's your name?"

Annabelle hit him in the arm. "You've been sitting here this whole time and you don't know her name? You are rude. What's wrong with you?"

"I don't..." He actually looked a little embarrassed. "I'm not usually this bad. I swear."

"Dominique Weasley," Durrin said in an introductory tone, gesturing to Stuart. "This is Stu Reynolds. He clearly has no manners and was raised by wild Hippogriffs-"

Stuart rolled his eyes.

"-and Stu, this is Dominique. She was my Seeker back at school. Maybe you'll remember her as the girl who outpaced that smarmy little shit Seeker of yours time after time?"

His eyes widened at that revelation. Now it seemed as if things were suddenly coming back to him. "Oh shit. I do remember you. I absolutely remember you."

"And I remember you," she said, feeling bold. "You screwed my sister over."

She could actually see the realization washing over him now, but all he did was slowly start to nod. "Right, because if you're Louis' sister, you're obviously Victoire's sister too..."

"Generally how families work, mate," Durrin said.

Stuart sat forward in his seat, leaning toward her with a sudden interest. "You're the one who got Henry Davies right in the bollocks after that one match we had, aren't you?"

Durrin snorted.

Dominique didn't even try to hide her smile as a flash of Henry's face flickered across her mind. "And I'd do it again."

Stuart looked briefly surprised to hear that, but he eventually cracked a smile—apparently amused for whatever reason. "Yeah, Davies could be a bit much sometimes. He probably deserved it."

"You don't have to tell me. He's my ex."

Annabelle's jaw dropped slightly while Stuart let himself thump dully back into his seat. "Well, there's a fucking twist."

"I'm telling you," Durrin said, nodding in agreement. "When I heard that, I'd just thought the whole world's gone mental. People find love in the strangest of places."

Dominique straightened up and shook her head immediately. "No. No love. Not even a little. But 'strange'— now that I'll give you that."

"How'd he manage to pull you?" Stuart asked, though it didn't sound like a question he was looking for a specific answer to. And if he was, she didn't know how to answer it. Was that a compliment? It seemed rather backhanded.

"Stu, I swear," Annabelle said with a roll of her eyes, "if that was a line, it was terrible." She looked at Dominique. "This is what happens when you grow up knowing you're handsome. You think any sort of shit you say makes girls want to sleep with you. Even if you've been acting like a complete prat."

"For the love of..." Stuart muttered. "Slow it down. Why do you always think I'm trying to pick up every girl I talk to?"

"I wouldn't say every girl," she said, "but every other girl."

"That's not even close to the truth." He looked over at Dominique. "And for the record, that wasn't a line."

"I didn't think..."

He had already turned back to Annabelle. "And for the sake of argument, let's say it was. What's with the cockblock?"

"It wasn't a cockblock, it was a awful line," she said. "That's all. I just expect better from you. A little more creativity."

"Why?" Durrin asked. "You said it yourself, when you're tall, in shape, you've got a good job, you're mostly normal and—I mean, look at that face. The fucker has a perfect face. Doesn't really matter what you say. Does it?"

"Are you trying to pick him up?" Dominique asked, glancing at Durrin. "Because that did sound like a line."

That had made Stuart laugh. "Maybe one day, Durr. One day."

Without missing a beat, Durrin replied, "You know—" He reached across the table to stroke Stuart's arm in an over-the-top romantic way. "I would make you so very happy." It made the two of them laugh, but Annabelle just stared at the pair of them with an expression of mock horror.

"Please stop."

"You're just angry you'd have to share him," Stuart said to her, now picking up another piece of cantaloupe and popping it into his mouth.

"You know what, I take it all back," she said, looking back down at the Prophet on the table. "You do you, Stu. Go ahead and try to pull her with whatever rubbish lines you want to use—"

"I wasn't trying to—"

"—even though," she said, suddenly looking up as if she'd just recalled something specific, "you had a thing with her sister. You don't find that a little odd?"

"We had one date to Hogsmeade together and I snogged her once at a party," said Stuart, his jovial tone for moments before now gone like a balloon that had lost all of its air. "I wouldn't even call it a thing."

Dominique had no idea what was happening, but for some reason it made for an entertaining breakfast. Perhaps it was because she could remember Victoire being torn up about Stuart—who she had witnessed kissing another girl one night after she had been under the impression that things were going well between them—but it would be interesting to get his perspective.

"So, what would you call it?" Dominique asked.

He stared at her as if he was appraising her, perhaps unsure of how to proceed. With that question, apparently they were now going to discuss this—which he didn't seem particularly interested in doing. He took a short breath and shrugged. "A moment, maybe? Look, your sister was—or rather, is...I don't know, I don't see her much anymore—but she was a great girl.

"Will I admit I fucked that whole thing up?" He glanced at both of his friends before looking back at Dominique. "Absolutely. That was on me. I felt bad about it, but it's not as if she and I were serious. We were just talking. I was drunk—which is never an excuse—but I also wasn't in a place in my life where I was really looking for a girlfriend. I'd just split up with my ex, and we'd been together for three years. That's an eternity when you're a teenager. I was seventeen and single for the first time ever. I only wanted to snog girls and have fun. She wanted more."

Dominique considered that. It made sense. Perfect sense, actually. It rang especially true now that that was exactly how she felt at the moment. She'd only been in a relationship for a few months and she was ready to write off any future relationships and keep everything casual for the rest of time. She couldn't imagine how freeing it must have felt after three years.

"To tell you the truth," she said, still not quite understanding why she was suddenly on Stuart's side, "she and her boyfriend were going to happen at some point anyway. Everyone always said so. You sort of drove them together."

Stuart threw Durrin a very smug look. It was clearly deliberate. "Well, isn't that lovely. See, you can tell your mate he can thank me."

"Don't start," Durrin said, his tone almost a warning. Annabelle had learned forward in her seat, her elbow on the table and her head now resting on her hand. She was glancing back and forth between Durrin and Stuart as if she was anticipating something.

"I'm not starting anything," Stuart said, feigning innocent. "I'm happy she's happy with...what's his face."

"His name's Ted," Dominique said.

Stuart laughed a little to himself. "Yeah, him."

"He knows his name," said Durrin, staring at Stuart.

Dominique felt her face tighten. Something wasn't being said, and although it wasn't her business one way or the other, it vaguely had to do with her sister, and definitely had to do with Ted; she felt she had a right to at least ask. "Do you have something against Ted?"

"Shit…" Durrin said, letting his head fall forward. "Can we not?"

"Other than him being an arsehole," Stuart said bluntly, ignoring Durrin. "No."

Dominique blinked at him, her defenses immediately going up. She had just started to come around on him and now he had to go and say something like that? "Ted? Ted Lupin? What's he done?"

"Let's just say he hates me and I'm not very fond of him. It's mutual."

Her expression twisted even further into confusion. "Because of what happened with Victoire? That was ages ago. That was...you said it yourself, it was barely a thing. I don't even think Victoire cares anymore. Why would he? Why would you?"

"I definitely don't," Stuart said. "But any time I see him, he goes out of his way to be an dick."

"What?!"

"You're not exactly innocent," Durrin said.

"I didn't even know who he was until after he started running his mouth," Stuart said, turning to Annabelle. "You were there that one night at the pub-"

"I remember," she said slowly. "He did seem to want to start something with you."

"_Ted_!?" Dominique asked, a doubtful laugh escaping her. "Are we talking about the same person? This doesn't sound like him at all."

"And he slept with my ex," Stuart said. "Right after we split up for good. Got right in there."

"Who's your ex?" she asked, doubting very much they were thinking about the same girl. She only knew about the one relationship Stuart had at Hogwarts with an equally attractive and popular girl called Elizabeth Cole; she only knew about them because her sister would talk about them as if they were some sort of goal to aspire to. But that girl wasn't even close to being in Ted's league, so it obviously wasn't her. It had to be someone else.

"Lizzy Cole," Annabelle offered.

"Wait, WHAT?" Dominique snapped, her head absolutely spinning. Ted wanted to start pub fights? Ted slept with Elizabeth Cole-a girl so revered at school that she was still talked about. Ted? Teddy Lupin? He was boring! Yes, he'd landed Victoire, but they'd been childhood friends with a lifetime of history and a shared inner nerd. With Elizabeth there was no possible way. No possible way. If any of this was true, she didn't know Ted at all. He might as well be a stranger. "I don't believe you."

"According to Durrin," Annabelle said, glancing over at him. "It is."

Durrin sighed, looking as if he was being put in a terribly awkward position. "I mean, Ted told me that. I don't think I was supposed to tell him," he gestured to Stuart, "but it came out once night when I'd been drinking."

"I don't…" Dominique stammered. "He's got to be making that up."

"You know him better than we do," Stuart offered. "Maybe he's a shit starter on top of everything else."

"But he's not that either," Dominique said, more confused than ever. "He's Ted. He's...boring. So boring."

"He wasn't lying," Durrin said. "He had no reason to. You know the two of us are friends. I consider him one of my closest-"

"Yeah, we all know," muttered Stuart. "You've got his back every time he comes up, even though—"

"And Stu is my best mate in the world," Durrin added in a louder tone. "We go back to the first day of school when we shared a bloody train compartment. I love you like a brother. I'm not on Ted's side. I'm not choosing sides. Can't I love all my friends? That's all I want to do? I'm so full of love."

Annabelle laughed, and even Stuart smirked before muttering, "You're full of something, alright."

"Does Victoire know?" Dominique asked, still lost in all of this new information. She had to know, right? Ted didn't seem like the type to keep secrets. But at the same time, Dominique was sure that she would have heard something from her sister about this. They pretended not to be as close as they were, but they talked. That was one things they did.

"I think so?" Durrin said. "She and Ted are friends with Liz and Dave. We all hang out sometimes."

"Bit incestuous, if you ask me," Annabelle said. "I remember back when Victoire and Dave dated. Then Lizzy and Lupin hooked up, and now they've all flip flopped partners. No one finds that strange?"

Stuart made a noise that seemed to say he agreed, but also was now standing. His body language seemed to be done with this conversation. "Think I'll pass on a chat about Liz and Dave, so I'm going to go. I'll see you all later." He mustered a polite smile for Dominique. "Nice to properly meet you. Sorry about earlier."

She shrugged. If she were being honest, given all that was said in the last few minutes, she'd already forgotten about that. She was a little too preoccupied to care about some impolite behavior that really wasn't even all that bad. She did worse every day.

"We should get going too," Annabelle said to Dominique. When she checked the clock, she realized she only had ten minutes to report to her pitch assignment. She'd lost track of time and immediately jumped up and started collecting her things.

"Where's the fire?" Durrin asked her, moving at a snail's pace to clean up his own mess.

"She's an Eager Elite," Annabelle reiterated to him. "She can't afford to be late like the rest of us."

Dominique mumbled a quick goodbye, grabbed her broom, and began bustling toward the exit. She had thought she was taking the trek over to pitch nine on her own, but realized that Annabelle was on her heels and keeping up. Given how laissez-faire her attitude had been about this place thus far, Dominique was surprised to see her. She must have sensed this because she randomly said, "I just don't like being late to things. Lateness is a pet peeve I have."

"Hey, I have a question," Dominique said, still striding quickly across the courtyard. "You said something yesterday about people getting moved around to different groups. And that you were dropped down after your first day."

"Yeah, some people will have new groups today."

"How do I know if I'm one of those people?"

"You would have had a notice on your door this morning," Annabelle said, having now caught up. "It would have instructed you to report to another pitch."

Dominique mused on that thought. There hadn't been anything there that she'd seen this morning, though Jack would have gotten to it first. But he would have left it had there been something. Then again, she wasn't even in her original room. Would that have caused an issue? What if it had been posted on the room she was supposed to have shared with Erin? What if those two had found it this morning and neglected to give it to her?

"Trust me, you'll know once you get there if you belong," Annabelle said, stopping once the path forked off into the direction of her assigned pitch. "But hey, good luck. And if I don't see you later, remember you're welcome to come hang out tonight in C Dorm. You really should get out a bit and enjoy yourself. Bring your friends."

Dominique continued walking without stopping, but managed to yell, "Maybe!" behind her before jogging the rest of the way to the pitch. Everyone was gathered in the center—though by everyone, Dominique now only counted five other people including Lynch. The two invitations, the good Durmstrang girl, the not-so-good Durmstrang boy, and Giggleswick. Three people from the day before we gone, including both Beauxbaton boys and the other Durmstrang girl. She'd almost called it perfectly.

"Ah, here we are, right at eight o'clock," said Lynch, taking Dominique in as she approached. "Everyone is here. Terrific." He clapped his hands together. "Now, on day one, I don't really like to learn names since things can change so quickly around here. But by day two, I feel we've settled a bit more, so some proper introductions would be appropriate. A little 'get to know you' before we get started." He smiled first at the large invitation bloke. "You first, young man."

Lynch went down the line one by one. Jere Nieminen was eighteen and from Durmstrang, a six year Seeker. Valentina Ricci, also eighteen but from Beauxbatons and had been a Seeker for five years. The two Durmstrang kids were both seventeen and had been Seeking for three and four years, respectively. Then Giggleswick introduced himself before the attention fell onto her.

"Dominique Weasley. I'm seventeen and I've been a Seeker for four years."

Lynch's smile turned into something more like surprise. He was staring intently at her now. "Weasley?"

She nodded. It was the second time that morning someone had used that tone while saying her last name. She was used to this reaction from strangers, though it had been awhile.

At school, no one was surprised by her famous last name or her connection to one of the most famous families in the wizarding world. She was old news there. Out in the real world, people tended to react as Lynch currently was—curiously and with great interest. Unfortunately for them, her parents weren't one of the more famous sets of Weasleys on that family tree. They weren't a former professional Quidditch player and married to the most famous man in their world; they weren't that man's oldest friends and partners in the great war; they weren't the high ranking Ministry officials; and they weren't even the ones who owned the joke store. She belonged to the most boring and normal part of the Weasley tree.

"You must know Ginny Potter? I remember her as a Weasley before she got married. Back when she was a young, up and coming player like yourself."

"She's my aunt."

"Terrific," he said, his smile wider now. "Lovely woman, your aunt. Played against her for a season before I retired. Seems Quidditch is in your blood."

She returned his smile, watching as he clapped his hands together to refocus the rest of the group. "Right, let's drop our brooms for the moment and get started with some running. Shall we? Nice warm up, I feel."

From beside her, she heard Giggleswick let out a snicker. When she turned to look at him, he was shaking his head. "I sure wish I could name-drop my famous family members to score points. Surprised you managed to keep your mouth shut for a whole day."


	11. Lipstick

It had been a grueling day, but surprisingly not as bad as the day before. While she ran more than she ever had, jumped more, dove more, climbed more, grabbed more, grunted more, and flew more than any other time in her life, it was still just slightly better than the previous day's workout. Perhaps it was because she knew what to anticipate; perhaps it was because she'd done it all the day before and knew she'd survive to tell the tale.

It also helped that she hadn't had to see or work with Sabatino that day. The coaches had all split their time between the next two days in order to offer a more intensive instruction time. They'd spent half the morning with Lynch working on basic exercises and general Seeking strategies, and then the other half with Wagner doing more team building exercises. The afternoon had been entirely reserved for Abreu and working on diving technique on repeat for four and a half hours. While Dominique hadn't managed to get the Snitch from the two spot, she was getting closer and closer. She even swore that she'd caught Abreu smiling at her once or twice, which seemed promising.

"Shame Sabatino's such a git," Ellibit was saying later that evening as she used a towel to pat her hair dry. Dominique had run into her at the showers and the two were now walking back down to their rooms. "My younger brother worshipped him around the time of the World Cup last year. I think he's still a fan."

"Tell him not to meet his heroes," Dominique muttered, reaching her door and pushing it open. "Especially in this case since he's a twat.

"Who's a twat?" Jack asked from inside the room. He was on his bed with his back against the wall; his workbook open across his lap. He hadn't been there when she'd gotten back from her training or before she'd left for a shower, but his wet hair and overall clean appearance said that he'd probably just gotten back from his own.

"Sabatino," Dominique said, throwing all of her discarded and dirty clothes into the laundry bag near the foot of her bed.

"I still can't believe that," he said, scribbling something down in his book before flipping through a few pages. "I remember all that promo for the World Cup and he always came off as such a cool bloke. I was a fan."

She plopped down across from him onto her own bed. "I remember how hard you pulled for Italy when we were there."

He grinned, but didn't look up. "And you and Lou were for Argentina."

"Louis only pulled for Argentina because I told him to," she said, picking up a corner of her blanket and absently fiddling with it. "I had him so confident that he even bet money on the match. Remember that?"

This time, Jack did look up, now grinning wider as he seemed to recall that. "Yeah, but you were right and he won. Something like fifty galleons, I think? That's what he said. Hope he at least bought you something nice."

She laughed dismissively. "Fairly certain he put it right back into his savings. He blew through the rest of his money on shitty souvenirs. For someone who barely enjoys Quidditch, he sure did get caught up in the mania and buy a lot of rubbish. Remember that tacky screaming hat that yelled in support of your team?"

"I still have mine," he said fondly. "Had to bury it in a box and hide it in my closet after it wouldn't stop screaming. But it did eventually shut up."

"I hated those things," she said, throwing him a lazy smile before turning her attention to the brick wall outside of her window. Jack had returned to his work and a silence fell over them, which was nice since neither of them ever felt the need to really fill it. It was so rare to find that with people.

It was strange to think that the World Cup was just a little over a year ago. It seemed a decade ago, and she genuinely felt as if she'd lived an entire life in the time between then and now. A year ago she'd just cut off her hair. She'd never even kissed a boy, let alone had sex-though that would change within a few months. She and Sarah were the closest they'd even been, and Louis wasn't even a factor for Sarah at that point—though he would be within a week or two after they'd returned. He and Jack were equally as close then, though just like she and Sarah, their relationship had now changed. Victoire and Ted would have just gotten together; now they felt practically married. It almost felt as if the World Cup was where she could draw a line on the before and after of her adolescence. It felt as if things that came before were a much younger and more innocent time.

She picked up her wand to start charming her hair dry when there was a sudden knock on their door. She and Jack exchanged a look, both assuming the other must have known who was there. When neither offered up anything, Jack called out, "It's open."

"Hello?" came Zara's voice before the rest of her came into view. She was dressed up—in a dress with her hair and makeup neatly done. She looked perfectly put together just as she always did at school, though Dominique was a little confused as to why. Why would she even pack a dress to come here? Were they supposed to do that?

"You look nice," Jack said, his face showing the curiosity that Dominique currently felt. "Big plans?"

Zara grinned in a dismissive way, as if she was so used to that comment it was almost a bother. "I mean, sort of. I'm going out. But I've come to tell you that you are as well."

He stared at her. That was apparently news to him. "Am I?" He looked back at Dominique, who just shrugged at him.

"You are, so get dressed," she said, her tone bossy. "You can do this—" she gestured to his workbook, "later. You're not sitting around tonight."

"Where are you going?" Dominique asked, feeling annoyed by Zara's general nature and also because she hadn't been extended an invitation to go out. Was she invisible? And where did Zara come off thinking she and Jack were the kind of friends that she could make demands of? They barely ever spoke to each other outside of a Quidditch pitch.

"I think we're starting at C Dorm," she said. "But we'll see where we end up." She looked back at Jack, who hadn't budged. "You're coming whether you want to or not. But I think you'll want to because I've gone and done you a favor."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

She walked further into their room and took a seat on the edge of Dominique's bed, which Dominique found to be a bit brazen. "I went and chatted up your cute little French friend over lunch today. We were in the same group yesterday, but she'd been dropped down one below, so it was the first chance I had. You came up." She smiled. "She had some questions and I had some answers."

Dominique pulled a face. What answers could she possibly have? They barely knew each other. Zara didn't seem to notice or care since she couldn't be bothered to pay attention to anything other than Jack right then. It was clear she'd said all the right things to pique his interest.

"Really?" he asked.

Zara nodded while Dominique rolled her eyes. "I made you sound fantastic. Told her you were really nice and everyone always said so. I've only ever known you to be a great guy, so you're not that shit type. You're the best Beater in school. That sort of thing. "

"I had no idea you thought so highly of me."

She waved him off. "Don't go getting a big head. I was being a nice person and trying to make a little connection in the world. Anyway, I told her she could meet us tonight and that I'd be sure to bring you along. She seemed keen. Play your cards right and..." She gave him a knowing smile.

Dominique felt her nose wrinkle involuntarily, but Jack snapped his workbook shut. She could already tell by looking at him that he'd been sold on this idea, much to her annoyance. "Yeah. Alright. Why not?"

Zara clapped a few times in a triumphant way before standing. "Excellent. Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

He nodded while muttering, "Yeah, yeah," in a lazy manner. He stood and grabbed his bag. It was while he was searching through it for clothes to presumably change into that he glanced over at Dominique. "Are you coming?"

She forced her face to remain reactionless, when in reality she wanted to sneer at the both of them for suddenly remembering she was even in the room. "No, thanks."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "What do you mean? What do you have to do?"

"I don't know. Anything other than having to listen to you 'Ummmm…' and 'Yeeeah...' and 'Cool...' your way into some feeble attempt at getting a handjob by night's end."

Zara turned to stare at her a little wild eyed, though Jack snorted a laugh before going back to what he was doing. "Shut it. You're coming out."

"No, I'm not." She gestured to Zara. "I didn't pack a single item of clothing that I didn't plan on sweating through or sleeping in."

Zara looked her up and down. "Is that really any different from your everyday, though?"

She didn't even try to hide her sneer that time.

"I didn't mean—" she said, holding up her hands in a sort of mock surrender. "I wasn't trying to be rude, I'm only saying, what's the difference? You dress like that all the time. I could offer to loan you something and you still wouldn't wear it. It's not your thing."

"Yeah, fuck it, who cares?" Jack said. "Wear whatever you want."

Dominique rolled her eyes again and began absently drying her hair with her wand. She wasn't sure which had made her feel worse—-having not been included or now being included. She'd only wanted to be invited so she could decline and go back to doing whatever else there was to do.

"Either way, come or don't. We leave in less than fifteen minutes," Zara said, throwing Dominique a nod before turning toward the door and letting herself out. She let it close dully behind her.

Jack rounded back on her. "So, you're coming."

"You can fuck right off," she said, reaching her wand behind her head to grab the longest parts of her hair to dry.

"Yeah. I'll get on that, but you're still coming." He pulled a shirt out of his bag that Dominique would have considered too nice to work out in, but too casual to dress up in. It was still nicer than anything she'd packed. Why had no one told her to pack decent clothes?

"You actually packed nice clothes?!"

"It's a t-shirt," he said, holding it up to her. "I wouldn't wear it to a ball or anything. And anyway, who cares? Wear what you want. It's never stopped you before."

"I'm not saying I want to look like I'm going to a ball," she muttered, moving on the last part of her hair that was still wet. "But I'd like to not look as if I'm going to practice."

"But who cares?" he asked, back to digging around in his bag. "Some girls dress up and, sure, they look good, but you…" He stopped.

She abruptly dropped the piece of hair she'd been drying to now stare at him. But she what? She couldn't compare so she shouldn't? She'd never given a shit in the past, so she wasn't allowed to care now? "I what?"

"Forget it."

"No, say it." She flipped her wand around at him, now mockingly threatening him. "I what?"

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Curse you if you don't answer the bloody question."

His eyes drifted back up to her face. He seemed to be wondering what was happening here. She flicked her wand in a beckoning manner, urging him to speak.

"You," he said finally—and fairly begrudgingly, "I was only going to say that you don't need to. So many of them do it to get attention from blokes and other girls, but you've never been that person. And even if you were that person and decided you wanted all eyes on you, you'd figure out pretty quickly that you could wear a potato sack and still be better looking than all the rest of them. So, who cares?" He turned away at that, picking up the shirt he'd placed beside him earlier.

Her wand went slack in her hand; the tip of it falling dully into her lap. That hadn't been at all what she'd thought he was going to say; he'd gone in a totally different direction. A direction that was taking her longer than a moment to process. She felt her face getting a little warm.

"Happy to see that didn't get me stunned," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking a couple of times.

"Your wand," he gestured to it. "You were about to…Wait, what did you think I was going to say?"

"I don't know." She picked it up again and returned to her final piece of hair. She suddenly felt the need to keep herself busy.

"So, are you coming out tonight or not?" he asked, now absently taking his shirt off right there. Well, that was...This was not...Bloody fucking hell...

She looked away and made a point to focus intently on her hair then, even though it was well past dry. "You are really pushing this," she said, finally looking back at him once he had pulled his shirt down.

"What can I say? I like having you around."

She silently watched him as he continued to pull some sort of outfit together. The fact that he wanted her to come, while going to try and pick up another girl was altogether a clusterfuck in her head at the moment. Here she was, realizing that her latent, drunk crush on him seemed to have grown into something more, and yet here he was pulling her in and out of this weird friendship box they'd created. How was it even possible to tell someone you found them to be the best looking person in a room and that you liked having them around, but in the next you were headed out the door to meet another girl? How did that even make sense?

She had spent most of her adolescence ignoring these games that boys and girls played with one another. Her friends were obsessed with them, but up until Henry, she'd never cared or tried. She minded her own business and her world had been easy. But now she was out there and apparently involved in game playing, but none of it made sense. The rules were unclear; the players were inconsistent. There was no way to tell whether you were truly winning or losing. How did people do this to themselves?

With a heavy sigh, she looked back out the window. "It doesn't make much sense to come with you considering you've got things to see and people to do."

"Very funny," he said. "But I honestly think you need to get out and have some fun. You've been through a shitty couple weeks, so let's get out. Didn't you say Annabelle was over in C Dorm? That she was trying to get you over there?"

That was true. When Jack started to annoy her with this girl, she could go find Annabelle or Durrin and show them that she had it in her to get out and have a little fun. There was no harm in going out and getting a drink, talking to some people, and then coming back here after a bit. She clearly needed to get out of her own head for a bit.

"Fine," she muttered loudly. "But I still don't know what I'm going to wear. All of my potato sacks are dirty."

A few minutes later, once Jack had told her he'd wait for her in the common area, she managed to throw together a pair of black leggings with a white t-shirt and her trainers-the best she could really do. On the plus side, if she did happen to come back to the room and pass right out, she'd be dressed for practice in the morning. One less thing she'd have to do.

She'd left her hair down, which to her was essentially the equivalent of styling it, put on deodorant, and brushed her teeth. All in all, it took about four minutes to get ready, and half of that had been the walk to the sink and back.

As she headed down the corridor, the door to Zara and Erin's room opened and they both appeared. Zara still dressed to the nines while Erin— Dominique was happy to see—less so. She was in normal clothes and also had trainers on. She was wearing makeup and her hair was definitely more done than usual, but nothing particularly noticeable. She would have looked out of place at a ball as much as she did.

"You decided to come," Zara said, taking one look at her and smiling. "And you look...acceptable."

"Best I could do," she said, glancing at Erin. "Wasn't aware that I needed to pack for cocktail hour."

"Don't go by this one," she said, gesturing to Zara. "She can't help it. Finds an excuse to dress up for the opening of an envelope."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to look your best and taking every opportunity to do so," Zara said matter of factly, now staring intently at Dominique's face. "You need something."

"Sorry?"

She turned to Erin. "She needs something, right?"

Erin hummed in agreement. "She does.

Zara turned on the spot, holding up her finger to signal for one moment as she made her way back to her room. "Stay there. Don't move."

As she disappeared inside, Dominique's expression begged Erin to perhaps fill her in on what was happening. Erin, in turn, just smirked back at her, turning quickly once Zara returned in the next moment.

"Here we go," she said, holding up a small little cylinder. She immediately pulled the cap off and handed it to Dominique. "With your coloring, that'll be nice on you. It'll elevate this," she gestured to her clothes, "look of yours from a little less day to a little more night."

Dominique stared at it, realizing that it was lipstick. A reddish, pinkish colored lipstick. She knew what it was, but she'd never a day in her life applied the stuff. Even when her mother had made her dress up for special occasions during the most hardcore of her tomboy days, she'd only ever insisted on nice robes and brushed hair. Make-up had always been a hard no. "You want me to…?"

Zara nodded. "Yeah, hurry up. We're already running behind."

"If you need a mirror..." Erin said, nudging Zara to check her purse. She did just that and pulled out a small compact that she held that out for her to take.

Dominique stared at it. She wasn't even intimidated, she was just completely baffled—and almost amused—by what was happening right now. "I'm not going to lie, I wouldn't even know what to do with that."

Both Erin and Zara seemed confused by the question. Clearly Dominique being completely ignorant on the ins and outs of make-up hadn't even occurred to them.

"It opens normally." Zara flipped the compact open and held it up for her.

She had to laugh a little now. "Or this," she said, holding up the lipstick. "I don't wear make-up."

"We're aware you don't wear it."

"But you do know how to-?"

Dominique shook her head.

"You never tried when you were small?"

"Especially not when I was small."

"Not with your friends for a laugh?"

"Sounds like a nightmare, honestly."

"I know your sister wears make-up," Zara said. "She's never tried to—?"

"Oh, she's tried. And failed. Every time. Completely gave up on me."

Both girls exchanged looks. Dominique already knew what they were thinking. She'd gotten that look a hundred times before in her life—always the same.

"You never cease to surprise me in every possible way," Zara said, though Dominique wasn't sure if that was to be taken as a genuine observation or an insult. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, because Zara was now pointing the lipstick at her as if she was planning to apply to her herself. "You need to trust me when I tell you this will look great on you. And you should let me do it."

She hesitated, staring at the little cylinder. This seemed like such a stupid things to actually be having this conversation about. "I…"

"I just bloody lipstick," Erin said sharply. "She's not giving you a tattoo. If you don't like it, wash it off."

"Fuck, fine!" Dominique spat, feeling oddly off her guard tonight. "If it'll get you off my case just...I don't know. Whatever."

Zara didn't even delay a second. She stepped right up to her and grabbed her face. She made her make her lips move into a few strange positions as applied the stuff, standing back almost as quickly as she'd closed in. With a nod and a smile, she seemed happy with her work. She glanced at Erin, who also gave her a nod of approval.

"Want to see?" Zara asked, already reaching back into her purse.

"Not really, no."

"It looks good," Erin said. "Swear it does."

"I'll take your word for it," she said, wanting more than ever to now move on. This night was already starting out in the strangest possible way. Perhaps she should turn around now and go back. Maybe it was an omen.

"Shit, we're so late," Zara muttered, now stepping around Dominique and heading down the corridor toward the common area. "They all better be ready to go. I'm not waiting another minute."

Erin followed after her and Dominique lagged behind for a brief moment. She took a deep breath as she reached up and barely tapped her lips. When she looked down at her fingertips, there was a trace of the reddish pink color there. She stared at it for a long moment before realizing that Zara and Erin were long gone.

When she reached the common area, a small group had already gathered; some she knew and some she didn't. Zara was in the middle of talking to some boy that was complaining they were late. He seemed like a loser, but that wasn't any of Dominique's concern. Zara was now ushering him and the other two strangers out the door, which just so happened to be where Ansel and Jack were standing and chatting.

"I thought I had ten minutes," Jack said to Zara as she passed him.

"Take it up with your partner in crime over there," Zara mumbled, blowing through the doorway. "Got held up doing her a favor. But we're leaving now, so don't dawdle."

Jack turned around to look for her, but she immediately looked down and avoided his gaze. She rolled her shoulders forward and let her posture slack as much as possible once everyone passed to exit.

"That's not a potato sack," he joked, holding the door for her and letting her pass. "Did Zara loan you something? She said something about doing you a favor."

"No, I pulled this out on my own," she said walking ahead of him. "And I'd call it less of a favor and more of a coercion."

"What'd she—?""

She turned and let him get his first good look at her face.

His jaw actually dropped. Her gut reaction was to hit him, but she didn't. Instead, she turned away and immediately started walking faster.

"Wait. Hold on. I was shocked. It looks nice."

"Piss off."

"I can still remember Sarah and Natalie literally begging you to let them, but you let Zara?"

"Piss off."

"And there was that time you punched Victoire in the tits when she tried to sneak up on you and put some on you."

That made her stop in her tracks. That memory had been long forgotten but had now dislodged itself at his mention. She could almost hear her sister screaming for their parents in order to tattletale on her, which made her laugh then and also now. "I'd forgotten about that. That was ages ago."

"Yeah, I think we were about twelve. Lou and I watched the whole thing from the top of your stairs."

"She deserved it," she added, walking again though slowing her pace as they followed the path past Dorm B. "And she's never tried to sneak up on me again."

Despite the pair lagging behind the rest of the group, they managed to catch up upon reaching their final destination—Dorm C. All the dormitories were identical in shape and size, though even standing just beyond the entrance, Dominique already knew this one was different from the one she'd been assigned. People were already filing in and out of the double doors and the energy from inside was already palpable. She was also happy to see that Zara seemed to be the exception to the rule, not the standard. Most people were dressed casually at best. There were women with their hair and makeup done, but also in trousers or leggings, tanks and blouses. One or two were even in pajamas. Some guys had brought button downs, but the majority were in t-shirts and jeans. People in robes were even walking about, though Dominique felt it was too hot for that. She'd never understood the old world way of thinking that you should always be in robes.

She made her way inside and immediately was met with the exact same layout as her dormitory, only much busier. There were already far more people crowded into the room, and the table and chairs were pushed into all sorts of directions. There were people yelling loudly and cheering in one corner of the room, though she couldn't see what they were doing; on the opposite side, a card game of some kind was taking place. It's participants seemed more subdued, until someone apparently pulled some sort of move, causing the whole table to erupt into a mixture of laughter and jeering. One big guy threw his card across the table in a fit.

People were standing around talking everywhere—in every available space and down the corridor on the first floor. She could just make out the scene down the hallway and see that almost every room door was open and people were filing in and out of them at will. It seemed the activities stretched down the length of the entire first floor.

Jack tugged on her sleeve, urging her to follow him. She'd already lost sight of anyone else she knew. The room felt hot and crowded and she was already unsure as to how anyone could stay here for long without feeling squished. Her anxiety was already bubbling up just at the sheer amount of bodies compiled into one space.

Jack had pulled her off in the direction of a corridor, where there she saw Zara and Erin already chatting up some new people that hadn't been in their initial group. She watched as Jack leaned in to ask Zara a question, though in the loudness of the place she had no idea what it was. She answered him, then pointed to a nearby room. With that, he looked back at Dominique and made a "be right back" gesture.

_Great,_ she thought. She'd hoped she'd have at least got her bearings on the place before being completely abandoned. She placed herself up against a wall and began people-watching; immediately deciding to guess each person's position based on their physical characteristics.

Erin and Zara were still nearby, talking to some tall blokes who Dominique had pegged as Keepers with maybe a Beater or two thrown in. At the card game, she recognized one of the girls as a Seeker, but assumed the rest of them were Chasers—minus the biggest guy in the room, who could probably bench press her over his head—he had to be a Beater. A couple walked by, hand in hand—Chasers. A group of drunk men chanting something loudly—amixed bag of all the positions, but their leader was a Beater she'd bet. Two petite girls, one of whom was crying and the other consoling, she'd bet they were Chasers. She could do this all night.

Jack reappeared and immediately handed her a beer bottle. He had his own and was already drinking from it, scanning the room absently. She looked down to see he'd already opened it. She held it up to him. "Cheers."

He held his cup up as well to mimic her, "Cheers."

"Where's the girl?" she asked. "I assumed she'd be here."

"Dunno," he said. "Zara said she told them here at a certain time, but we were late. Maybe they left."

"We were only about ten minutes late," Dominique mumbled. "If they can't wait ten minutes—?" She stopped when she noticed Durrin no more than ten feet away, having emerged from the corridor into the common area. He also had a drink in his hand and looked to be headed somewhere. She called out his name to get his attention and he stopped and looked directly at them. An immediate grin appeared. He seemed especially happy once he noticed Jack.

"How it's going!?" he said, immediately filling the gap between them and dodging a drunk girl who was stumbling back to the rooms. He went to hug Jack before stepping back to look him up and down. "Merlin's beard, what the hell have you been doing? And can you show me?"

"Putting in a little work here and there," he said modestly

"'Here and there' is code for every morning at dawn," said Dominique.

Durrin pulled a face. "Nope. Sorry. Fuck that. I can barely commit to shaving every day, let alone that." He smiled again at Jack. "Great to see you though, mate. Really. Both of you." He looked back and forth at the two of them. "But hey, things are going well at school? Heard last season was a bit of a bust."

"We don't really talk about last season," Jack muttered as he and Dominique exchanged quick glances.

"It was a rebuilding year," Durrin said with a wave of his hand. "You lost your fearless leader and one hell of a Keeper. Hard to fix that right away." He took a drink. "I've heard the new Keeper needs some work."

Dominique said nothing, knowing Jack was already going to side-eye her since Kenley was always their biggest point of contention. However, when he wasn't looking, she nodded fiercely so that only Durrin could see.

"What can I say, Durr?" Jack said, raising his bottle to him. "Hard to replace you."

"Too right," he said, raising his drink as well before glancing behind him. "Hey, hold on. Annabelle's going to want to see that you've actually come out tonight. I'm not sure where's gone off too, but—"

He walked away mid-sentence. What he was saying or where he was going was now a mystery. Dominique and Jack looked at each other, both unsure as to what that had been about, though Jack did say, "I miss him.'

"I miss him, too," she said, noticing that Zara had appeared in her peripherals and was coming closer. She stopped right before them, her attention on Jack.

"Here you are," she said before more people appeared to have followed her over. It was Vanessa and some of her friends, including the one petite girl she'd been with at orientation, as well as Gabriel from the Seeker group. There was another one, but Dominique was already overwhelmed by how many people were now crowding her once comfortable spot.

"Told you he'd come," Zara added, a wide smile on her face. "I've done my part. Have fun." And just like that, she'd turned and walked way

Everyone looked a bit uncomfortable given how ridiculous that set up had been. There was an exchange of anxious smiles and polite hellos, and Dominique wanted to peel away from it all since she could barely handle the awkwardness. Unfortunately, she was now pinned back against the wall by the French group.

"Your friend is very…" Vanessa began as she looked to where Zara had vanished off to, "direct."

"Would you believe we're not even really friends?" Jack said, still looking a bit surprised. "We really don't even know each other that well."

"Could have fooled me," Dominique mumbled, glancing from one French kid to the next. Gabriel and the other boy were watching the room, presumably looking for somewhere else to be. The other girl, whose name Dominique couldn't remember, was sizing Jack up carefully. She seemed like the type that wasn't going to abandon her friend around a strange new person. Good friend, but not exactly subtle in her actions.

Dominique was also pleased to see that both of the girls were dressed casually. Vanessa even had trainers on, which gave her a few points in her book. She had a sweet demeanor about her and a very friendly smile. Cute would be the word she'd use to describe her if she had to, though as she stood there now taking her in, she didn't really quite understand why she bothered to formulate an opinion on her. This was, at best, a three day adventure for Jack, not a real prospect. By the time she'd even formed a real opinion of her, they'd be headed back to France and she and Jack back home. She might as well forget her name now as far as she was concerned.

"You remember my friend, Chloe?" Vanessa said, glancing from Jack to Dominique as she gestured to her. Chloe smiled before Vanessa gestured to the boys-neither of whom were paying attention. "And that's Gabriel and Leo."

Jack nodded before pointing to Dominique. "I think you all met already, but this is Nic."

"Dominique," Chloe said. "I remember. The girl who speaks French."

Dominique forced a dry smile. While Vanessa came off as sweet, this one didn't. She was looking at her in a way that—quite frankly—Dominique tended to look at people. It was a mixture of annoyance at their presence and lack of interest in them being there. She was the master of that look.

"Sorry, yeah," Jack said. "I call her Nic." He looked back at Vanessa. "You want a drink? I can get you one."

"I can come with you," she offered, and Dominique noticed she wouldn't stop smiling at him. She wanted to roll her eyes. It was probably better they did run off for drinks because she wasn't sure how much more of this she could watch.

"You two go," Chloe said, ushering them along and throwing Vanessa a smile. "Bring me back something, I'll wait here."

"You want something, Nic?" Jack asked.

She shook her head, having only drank a little of her beer. She was taking it easy and planning to be back in their dorm room within the next hour. She watched as the two of them left, while the boys they'd brought with them followed once they'd heard they were headed to get drinks. When she turned back, she caught Chloe inspecting her.

"So," she said, "my friend really likes yours."

Dominique shrugged. "That's nice."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm always a little suspect when a boy and a girl are really good friends."

"Good thing it's her and not you trying to chat up my friend, then."

She made a small noise, seemingly unsure as to what to make of that. "I suppose I don't see the point in having friends of the opposite sex get that close. If you're willing to go that far, why not take it all the way?"

"You don't have any close male friends?" she asked. "Who were those boys you brought?"

"Gabe and Leo? We're in the same house. That's all."

"Jack and I are in the same house, too."

She looked skeptical. "You're very clearly friends."

"We are. But I was commenting on the fact that we're in the same house. I thought that's what we were talking about?"

She made a laughing sort of noise, but it didn't sound amused. "So, are you the gatekeeper for him? Checking Vanessa and making sure she's good enough?"

This chick was going deep. It really wasn't that big of a deal. "Good enough for what? If we're being honest, I haven't really formed much of an opinion on her, or you, or any of it because in a few days this-" She made a gesture around the room, "will be over. You and her will go back to your school, me and him will go back to ours, and life will go on." She forced a smile that she was sure would be perceived as bitchy. "I don't really care who he gets to blow him. That's on him."

Chloe clearly hadn't expected that answer, though oddly enough, instead of putting her off or shutting her up, it seemed to pull her in. She smiled—and it was genuine amusement, not the cold and bitchy kind.

"If that's what he's looking for," she said, "he might be a bit disappointed. Vanessa's not the type to jump right into that. She's a good girl."

"Yeah, we all are until we're not," Dominique offered.

Chloe began to laugh. Why did it suddenly feel like things were warming between them? Had she said something to give her that impression? She hadn't meant to. Maybe she was getting soft.

"Isn't that the truth," she said before a stilted silence fell between them. Dominique drank some of her beer, wondering where exactly everyone had gone off to and what was taking so long. But of course she already knew the answer.

"For the record," Dominique finally said, choosing to fill the silence. "Jack's a really good guy also. I don't really think he's expecting anything. But, you know..."

"I get it."

She nodded. "Glad the terms of our friend' sex life have been properly discussed. I've spent more time talking about him getting shagged than myself."

Chloe grinned and glanced around the room. She also apparently was wondering where they'd disappeared off to. Perhaps she hadn't quite realized she'd been ditched yet. She eventually turned back to her. "I like your lipstick. It's a great color."

"Thanks..."

"It's a shame you went to Hogwarts. Had you gone to Beauxbatons, we probably would have been friends."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you actually knew me."


	12. Dragon Grass

Dominique stood talking to Chloe for several more minutes, mostly about the party and the people currently causing another scene over at the card table. She was already looking for an excuse to leave when a person suddenly came flying through the crowd straight at her. Chloe had gotten pushed off to the side in the bustle and Dominique had just enough time to identify Annabelle reaching out to wrap her arms around her shoulders. She was now hugging her as if she'd returned from war, and Dominique didn't really know how to deal with this. She wasn't a hugger.

"See, right where I left her," came Durrin's voice from somewhere behind Annabelle. It was hard to tell since her curly hair was obscuring Dominique's entire line of sight.

"You came!" said Annabelle, who wouldn't let go. "I'm so happy to see you!" She smelled like smoke and when she finally pulled away after what seemed like ages, Dominique noticed her eyes were glassy and a little red.

"Are you high?"

"Maybe a little," Annabelle said, reaching up and placing both of her hands on Dominique's cheeks. "You look so pretty." She turned around. "Durrin, doesn't she look—?" She'd instead found herself face to face with Chloe, which confused her. "I don't know you. But you're pretty, too." She reached out to touch Chloe's face, but Durrin stepped forward and grabbed her by the elbow, directing her away.

Annabelle reached out and grabbed Dominique's hand then, pulling her from the wall. "Well, come on. Come with me. I want you to meet some people! There's nothing going on over here."

She let herself be pulled away, leaving her comfortable wall spot and Chloe behind without so much as a goodbye. She was led around like a ragdoll, pulled in one direction one moment and another the next. Annabelle seemed to know every person in the room, and a high Annabelle apparently had to talk and hug every single one of them. There were some twin girls from Serbia whose party trick was to literally finish each other's sentences. There was a girl from Lithuania who could drink three cans of beers at once—much to the cheers of onlookers. There was a bloke who could fold himself into a pretzel shape and walk around the room, and another who claimed to do dead-on impressions of any of the coaches. Dominique didn't catch any of the ones she recognized, but given that people were laughing, he must have been doing a good job. These were just the people who stood out to her. Everyone else she was introduced to was relatively normal, drunk, or boring. They all knew Annabelle and she knew them.

She eventually got pulled down onto the corridor and into one of the rooms, where a hazy fog hit her the moment she entered. Annabelle immediately shut the door behind the pair of them before gesturing to the other person sitting inside. It was a girl with red hair and a strong jaw. She was lying on her bed, listening to music on her own.

Dominique turned behind her to look at the closed door. Durrin had been with them a few minutes earlier, but had since disappeared. She glanced at Annabelle. "Where'd Durrin go?"

"He doesn't like this stuff," she said, walking over to sit down on the other bed. She immediately picked up an older looking pipe from the nightstand and then pulled out her wand. "Says it makes him paranoid."

Dominique blinked her eyes a bit. They were beginning to sting due to the haze. She already felt a little lightheaded and was probably well on her way to a contact high if that was really a thing. She oddly began thinking about her breathing for some reason, which in turn made her start to breath heavier. Her throat began to feel prickly.

"You remember Felicity?" Annabelle asked as she lit the pipe with her wand. The action immediately reminded Dominique of an old man since they were the only kinds of people she'd even seen use those pipes.

"Hey," Felicity said with a lazy smile. "I remember you from school. You were that bitchy little Seeker who was always yelling."

"I think I still am."

"Yeah, the one who always looks like she'd rolled out of bed and never bothered to pull yourself together," she added. "But look at you now. You look good. I'd do you."

"She does look good, doesn't she?" Annabelle said. "But yeah, compared to a few years ago-" She inhaled from the pipe before handing it back to Felicity. "She always did have a really pretty face underneath all that, though. The whole family's fucking gorgeous."

"Whose family? Who are we talking about?"

Annabelle proceeded to then bring up Victoire and Louis and their perfect looking faces; she and Felicity went back and forth talking about her and her siblings as if she wasn't standing directly in front of them. They were both completely stoned out of their minds. That must have been some serious dragon grass.

Dominique had tried dragon's grass before—earlier in the summer at Sarah's house. Sarah had a considerably older brother called Andrew from her father's first marriage who lived far away from the chaos of the real world and grew the stuff in secret on a farm in Wales. Sarah always claimed that the war had really done her brother in; he'd not only lost his mother to it, but was right in the thick of things at Hogwarts and had been tortured by the Death Eaters during the year they'd taken over the school.

Dragon grass was one of the few things that helped him with his post traumatic stress, so he'd gone all in on it. Their father always referred to him as a nutter who needed to find a real job, but he seemed to be doing alright for himself. On his last stop through Godric's Hollow to visit, he'd brought Sarah a belated seventeenth birthday present in the form of a large quantity of the stuff—unbeknownst to their father or her mother.

She and her friends had all tried some, burning—quite literally—though the supply with a week's time. Dominique had found that it certainly mellowed her out to the point where she finally felt "off" for once in her life, but that it always made her antsy once the high started to dwindle. She hadn't had any since then.

Felicity noticed her staring and held up the pipe. "You want some?"

She mulled the question for a moment. She'd certainly preferred the idea of a mellow evening over an alcohol driven one. A little wouldn't hurt. She went and sat next to Felicity, noticing that she had several bags of dragon grass beside her bed. "You've got a lot of this stuff."

"It really helps me deal with people," Felicity said. "I love Quidditch, but I hate crowds and people. This place is full of that, so…" She handed her the pipe.

When Dominique had tried it with her friends, it had been rolled into a cigarette thanks to Sarah's brother, so this pipe was new territory. Luckily for her, Felicity didn't hesitate to light it for her. She waited momentarily for the grass to catch the fire and then inhaled deeply. After exhaling, she did it again.

"This stuff makes me feel so peaceful," Felicity said, taking the pipe back. "Better than that usual stuff. Glad that bloke from D had extra."

"What usual stuff?" asked Dominique, coughing a bit.

"Regular dragon grass. This stuff is enhanced a bit."

"Enhanced with what?"

Felicity slid herself back onto her bed so that she was now leaning up against the wall. "Slight traces of viratusium."

Another preemptive cough suddenly began to make Dominique's lungs feel as if they were on fire. She tried to hold it in as she processed what Felicity had just said, but it forced itself out with a vengeance and she coughed multiple times. "The truth telling stuff?" She managed to stammer between coughs. "Why the fuck would someone lace dragon grass with viratusium?!"

"It frees your mind in the most amazing way," Annabelle said, now looking awfully smiley.

"Why would anyone…?" She stopped speaking when she suddenly felt everything in her body just let go. It was as if every ounce of tension and angst in her was gone. She felt light as a feather and as calm as a millpond. She was so intensely relaxed that she felt as if she was existing within a cloud. The world was a beautiful place—as long as not a single thing in that moment ever changed.

"Word of warning," Felicity said. "When you're at your highest, the filter between your mouth and your brain is essentially gone. So, watch yourself for the next hour or so."

"I don't have much of a filter anyway," Dominique said, realizing that Felicity's voice was actually sort of oddly high pitched in a grating sort of way. "Do you always talk like that? It's really annoying."

Felicity started to laugh, which made Annabelle laugh as well. It didn't make any sense because nothing she had said was funny.

"Careful who you talk to," Annabelle finally said after she'd worked her giggles out. "Merlin knows some of the shit that comes out can't be taken back. That's another reason Durrin disappears." She frowned. "I've said some shit I shouldn't have before."

"Like what?" Dominique asked. "What even is the story with you two? I know you two fuck around, but you seem keen on him and him on you. I can't tell if you're just fucking or something else."

"It's so complicated," she groaned. "It's such a story. And I'm too high to tell it."

"Oh," Dominique said with a shrug. "Well, that's good because I really don't care enough to listen to a story. Don't bother if you can't sum it up in three sentences."

Annabelle looked as if she considered that a challenge and smiled confidently. "I can do three sentences!" She sat up straight. "He's in love with me. I'm not in love with him like that, but I still love him. We hook-up whenever we're here." She stopped and began silently counting on her fingers. "Was that two or three?"

"I stopped listening after the first sentence," Felicity mumbled. "I've heard enough about you and Durrin to last me my entire life. I genuinely don't care anymore."

"Oh, fuck off," Annabelle said, flipping her off before her eyes landed back on Dominique. "Want to go back out to the party?"

Dominique immediately shook her head rapidly back and forth far more times than was necessary. Was she serious? Had she not just told her she was a walking truth bomb ready to do some damage? "I can't. If I go out there right now, I'm going to say a lot of shit that I don't need to say."

"The more your high wears off, the more control you regain of your filter," Felicity offered. "You can just wait it out here."

"You already said that," Annabelle said, sounding bored. "And Dominique, why would you want to sit here all night? What's the fun in that? You won't even see most of these people ever again."

"I don't care about those people," Dominique said. "I'm more afraid of the ones I will see again. They're the ones I could do some damage with."

"Just tell me who," Annabelle said. "I'll keep them away! I'll be your bodyguard."

"Until she gets distracted by something shiny," Felicity mumbled. "Or someone she knows, which is everyone. She knows everyone."

"You, shush," Annabelle said before she began pointing at Dominique. "Seriously. You point them out. I'll keep them away. Just tell me who."

Dominique didn't even have to think about that. An answer came immediately and she spoke it before she had time to think otherwise. It came out of her without the slightest hesitation or resistance. "Jack Ians."

"Oh!" Annabelle said excitedly. "I know him! Durrin always talked about him!." She cocked her head to the side in a curious manner. "Why don't we like him?"

"We do like him," Dominique said. "That's the problem. We like him far too much."

Even she had to stop after those words had come out of her mouth. It was almost as if someone else had spoken them and she'd heard them for the first time. Had she actually said that? That had been her voice. Her mouth had formed the words in that sentence. She wasn't going to be able to get those words back now that they were out in the universe.

"Ohhhhh," Annabelle said, now giving her a thumbs up. "I get it. Right. Right. Right. And you're not ready to tell him that?"

"I wasn't ready to tell myself that," she muttered.

"I'm too high to know what that means," Annabelle said, blinking her eyes multiple times. "And so we're on the same page, you don't want to tell him, right?"

Dominique nodded her head. "Right. He's my friend. He's my brother's best friend. He's my Quidditch captain. He's my teammate. He's my roommate while we're here-"

"Wait, you're rooming with a boy you fancy and you're letting that opportunity slip by?" Annabelle said, now squinting at her. "You are dumb."

"You're dumb," Dominique countered. "You get to claim your shit with Durrin is complicated, but I'm dumb because I don't want to tell my friend I have a crush on him—which, you know what? Maybe it's not even real."

"Of course it's real," Annabelle said. "You may be able to trick yourself the rest of the time, but viratusium doesn't lie, darling."

"No, it's different. I know I'm attracted to him, but…" She took a deep breath. "My ex and I split up not long ago. That fucked me up more than I'll admit and I'm not over it. But I'm definitely attracted to Jack. But I don't want something new because I'm still dealing with my ex, so what do I want from Jack? Sex? You can't have sex with your friend. That fucks everything up. I don't want that." She paused for a moment. "I mean, I do want that because he's really fit, but I can't because that would cause so many issues. So what do I do?"

"That was so many words," Annabelle said, rubbing her temples. "You're one of those people who gets high and talks a lot, aren't you?"

"Maybe you just need to find someone else to smash," Felicity offered. "Get shagged and get it out of your system. Then maybe you won't be so hung up on this other one. A good orgasm could settle you down. Help you see things clearly."

"Oh yes, a proper rebound!" Annabelle agreed. "Someone to hit and quit. Who do we know?"

"I barely know anyone," Felicity said. "And that's the way I like it. You, however…"

"I know people!" Annabelle said, standing suddenly. "Come on, Dominique. We're going to go and make some new friends."

She started at her. Was she suggesting that they exit this room and go back out into the party? "But there are people out there. I don't want to talk to people."

Annabelle reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her up from the bed. "This the ultimate game of Quidditch and you are its Seeker. You just got to avoid all the bad Bludgers until you can find a proper Keeper."

She let herself be pulled up and led toward the door, but still resisted slightly. "That doesn't even make any sense. The point is to score on the Keeper, not to get one. And if I'm a Seeker then all I want is the Snitch. You have played Quidditch before…?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it's a metaphor. Just go!" She opened the door and pushed Dominique out into the corridor, where the music and noise from the common area was now overwhelming. The room had been so quiet that she'd forgotten how much was happening just outside its walls.

Annabelle walked ahead and began to scan the room. People would walk by and she would stop to chat and say hello to all of them, though her attention still remained focused on looking for something in particular. She eventually turned to Dominique and said, "Let's do a lap. If you see anyone who strikes your fancy, let me know."

She had no idea why she was even letting herself be led around to do this, but something inside of her felt the need to go with it. It seemed Annabelle was perfectly happy doing most of the work, so as long as there wasn't much for her to do she may as well play along.

There was something about the way Annabelle introduced her that awarded her plenty of suggestive smiles and looks, but not a single one did anything for her to warrant much of a conversation. The first guy who attempted to chat her up lasted a good two minutes. He started off by complimenting her in an aggressive manner, but she was immediately wary when he wouldn't look her in the eyes. He would look at the top of her head, her chin, all around the room, her shoulder, his feet, everywhere else instead of making actual eye contact. When she'd finally had enough and asked him what was his deal, he muttered something about a spell that allowed women to steal your soul if you made direct eye contact with them.

Even if she hadn't been under the influence of laced dragon grass, she would have had a hard time not telling this nutter where to go, so the fact she was made it impossible for her to let that one slide. She'd thrown some choice words at him before Annabelle grabbed her and immediately informed her that no one in their right mind talks to Wallace. "Sorry, I should have warned you. He's batshit."

She then introduced her to an average looking bloke with nice, green eyes called Regis who at first seemed a bit promising. That was until he really started talking—which was all about himself. He claimed to be a invitation Keeper out of Durmstrang. His stats— if true—were quite impressive, but in the five minutes they spoke, he dominated the entire conversation. He never waited for a response and didn't bother to even ask her for her name, which seemed like a red flag as far as she was concerned. She'd eventually held up her hand in a silencing manner, which did make him finally stop. She didn't even say anything after that; she merely walked away.

The next two could have been identical in personality; they even looked a little alike. Typical meathead Beaters—big, burly, same dark and short kept hair, both with deep voices—clearly looking to get shagged and laying it on thick. According to them, she was the "most beautiful girl there" and her—this was where they would pick a random feature, like her eyes or her hair—was perfect. They refused to believe she didn't have a boyfriend, because after all, what boy wouldn't want to scoop her up?

She finally asked them both if the shit they were saying ever worked, and when they both got offended that she didn't fall head over head for their dumb act, she had to walk away before the giggles overcame her entirely. On the plus side, these two did bring her a drink so she didn't have to retrieve her own. It was the only benefit of that conversation given she was never getting those ten minutes of her life back.

They were all the same and they were all boring or typical. She would have to get drunk in order to want to sleep with any of them since she was turned off almost instantly by the attempt. They were so obvious and blatant. Yes, she was new to this whole world of flirting and meeting people, but she had hoped there'd be a little bit more to it than regurgitating stale pickup lines and doling out the most basic of compliments. It was exhausting.

A skinny Chaser had stopped her now, taking advantage of the fact that she was alone. Annabelle had wandered away to greet someone else she knew, which she did often. The Chaser felt the need to lead with the fact that he didn't think women really understood Quidditch on the same level as men did. Their brains just worked differently.

"Are you fucking serious?" Dominique said, throwing him one of the nastiest looks she could muster. "That's the dumbest shit I've heard all night, and I just spoke to a bloke who said I could steal his soul by looking at him. So congratu-fucking-lations for that."

Annabelle reappeared just then, tugging gently on her arm. "Uh, I just need her for a second," she said to the Chaser, though once she'd pulled her away, she added, "Well, that one seemed all wrong."

"That guy's a knob," she said. "Where does he get off saying-?"

"Yeah, he's gone now," Annabelle said, tapping her on the shoulder in a reassuring manner. "They're not all winners, unfortunately."

"I'm done," she said with a shake of her head before she drained the last bit of her drink. "I don't care anymore. I'm calling it a night."

Annabelle seemed disappointed, but also said that she understood. "I've noticed that when I try, I never find. It always happens when you least expect it. A watched pot never boils, they say."

"Why would anyone watch a bloody pot?" Dominique mumbled, feeling her head start to clear a bit. She was coming down from her high and was likely starting to regain most of her filter.

"There's Durrin," Annabelle said pointing over toward the card game near the side of the room. Sure enough, there Durrin and Stuart stood drinking and talking to another man. Something exciting was apparently happening in the game because their attention—as well as the attention of several onlookers—was rapt. Eventually, someone at the table stood up and let out a loud, but joyous scream. Some people started clapping while one girl yelled "Fuck" loudly.

"I'm coming down," Annabelle muttered, rubbing her face vigorously as she led the way across the room toward the boys. "I hate when it wears off."

"Me too," said Dominique, now feeling rather gloomy. She'd gone from a happy, light as a feather feeling—albeit one that was fueled by harsh words and an inability to keep her mouth shut—to a grumpy

and agitated mood. She didn't like this feeling. She suddenly was thinking about Henry and how they had fallen apart.

She needed to go. A nearby clock said it was just after eleven o'clock; still plenty early for most people, but late enough for her. It had been over two hours; she'd come, she'd seen, and she now wasn't a complete loser who'd hidden away all week. She didn't meet any cute boys, just a bunch of losers, but she'd made the attempt. She could tick that box off of her Quidditch Trials bucket list.

"Hey," Annabelle said once they'd reached Durrin, slinking her arm around him once she could. He immediately did the same to her, though never took his eyes off the card game. The man he'd been talking to was now pointing to something on the table while actively commenting on something one of the players was doing. He seemed to be explaining some rules in a very in depth manner. Both Durrin and Stuart were nodding as if listening, though after a minute, Durrin finally turned to look at Annabelle. He seemed to be examining her face.

"Don't worry, I'm coming down," she said, suddenly kissing him. "Don't get your wand in a knot."

"I didn't say anything," he said, noticing Dominique beside her and nodding hello to her before focusing back on Annabelle. "Where have you been all night?"

"I've been trying to find a handsome, normal bloke who's looking for one night of mindless, attachment free sex, but that seems so much harder than you'd think it'd be."

Durrin made a face directly for Annabelle's benefit. "Uhhhh…" He suddenly gestured to himself.

She swatted him in the chest. "It's not for me."

"If she's fit," He raised his hand as if volunteering, "I still may be available." It caused Annabelle to slowly take her arm off of him and throw him a sharp look, though it only made him shrug in an unbothered way. "You are not allowed to get angry. Unless you've changed your mind about you and me?"

"You know I don't want a boyfriend-"

"Great, then who's the girl?"

She suddenly seemed particularly annoyed with him, but made an obvious gesture toward Dominique. When he realized she was the girl in question, he slowly lowered his hand. His face grew sheepish, as if he'd just done something very awkward. "Nevermind."

Dominique laughed. She wasn't even offended considering the source because that would have been a hard no for so many, many, many reasons. "I appreciate you doing that so I don't have to feel like a complete arse for not being interested."

"Glad we agree," Durrin said, reaching over to give her a high five.

"I can't believe you would even say…?" Annabelle began, clearly still annoyed with him. She was practically boring a hole into his head with her stare. She turned then and muttered, "I'm getting a drink," before setting off in the opposite direction.

Dominique watched her go before turning back to gauge Durrin's reaction. He sighed heavily; his eyes practically rolling back into his skull. At the very same moment, Stuart had torn himself away from the card game to check in with his friends, though seemed to sense the new tense energy that had emerged. "Where'd Anna go?"

"Hell if I know," Durrin muttered, though he was still watching the exit path Annabelle took. "She's angry with me. Again. I'm not chasing after her this time. It's what she wants. She gets high and starts acting like she always does, and then I'm the one who needs to fix things. But I'm not doing it tonight."

Stuart made eye contact with Dominique at that moment, shaking his head and his expression clearly saying, "_I'll believe that when I see it._" but he said nothing other than, "Do what you have to do, mate."

"Where does she even get off...?" Durrin ranted to Stuart, though Dominique took the opportunity to absently glance around and keep out of their business. She liked Annabelle and Durrin, but she wasn't about to invest an extra minute in someone else's relationship drama when she had enough of that to deal with on her own.

The thought of her own drama made Jack suddenly pop into her head, and she found herself curious if he was still here. She hadn't seen him ages and wondered if he had he left. She assumed he wouldn't stay out all night given that he'd been working too hard this week to blow it for some girl, but attraction made people do dumb shit all the time. Who knew if he was above any of that? She also wondered what he would do if he actually successfully pulled this girl. Were they back in the room—the room they shared? They hadn't even discussed that. Why hadn't they discussed that?

She suddenly stood up on her tiptoes and started scanning the room in search of him, which didn't help much considering she was surrounded by tall athletes. She could barely make things out, but if he was still here, she was fairly certain he wasn't on her side of the room, or near the corridor, or anywhere in plain sight in the common area. He could have been in any of the many rooms down the hall, but she wasn't about to go and search them.

"Hey, you haven't seen Jack lately have you?" she asked Durrin, clearly interrupting his rant to Stuart; she was past the point of caring. She may have been coming off of her high, but being blunt still felt right.

Durrin looked back at her, his face now switching gears from annoyed to his regular, default self. "Not since he was with you earlier. Did you lose him?"

She scoffed a little. "No, he met a girl."

"Oh wait, yeah, shit," Durrin said, as if remembering, "I did see him, actually. He was talking to a girl. Two girls. One was a brunette and the other was a blonde. They were cute."

"How long ago was that?"

He shrugged. "Hour ago."

She inhaled sharply. That didn't help. She started looking around the room again on her tiptoes, which even on those, she was still shorter than both Durrin and Stuart standing flat footed. Stuart alone was over a head taller. He could probably see most of the room up there without even trying.

"What's he look like?" Stuart asked.

"Do you know Jack Ians?"

"Sounds familiar. But I'm pretty shitty with names and faces." He smiled. "I feel as if you and I have already been through that."

She found herself smiling despite it not being particularly funny. "He's about Durrin's height. Dark blondish hair. He's a Beater, so he's got that kind of build."

"That's roughly a quarter of the guys in the room. What color shirt is he wearing?"

She had to think about that. What color had he pulled out of his bag earlier? Blue? Grey? Bluish grey?

"Sort of a dark blue."

Stuart stood up taller and gave the room a once over. He looked for a bit, as did Durrin beside him, though they did get distracted by another loud cheer from the card table. Durrin continued to watch the spectacle now playing out in front of him, but Stuart actually returned to having a look around. After a minute, he used his bottle to point across the room. "That him?"

She followed his gesture but shook her head. It was close given the descriptors she'd given, but that guy had quite a few stones on Jack and looked like he actually lived in a gym, not just visited. She shook her head.

Stuart then looked the other direction, immediately pointing once again—this time toward the exit. "That him?'

She couldn't see who he was referring to since there were so many people crowded around the door. Durrin had returned to help them and was now looking to where Stuart was pointing. He quickly started nodding. "Oh yeah, that's him. He's with the same girls I saw him with earlier. Got his arm around the brunette one, so he's clearly done something right. They look cozy—"

She didn't wait for him to finish and instead stepped away, walking straight through the crowd and around the large, makeshift card table. After maneuvering around several people, she managed to arrange herself with a semi-unobstructed view of where—sure enough—Durrin had been correct. Jack definitely had his arm around Vanessa and they certainly looked cozy.

Something in her stomach dropped. She clearly still had some of the dragon grass's effects coursing through her because she was suddenly overcome with immense jealousy. She'd never in her life been this kind of jealous. She'd been jealous over lots of things, of course, but never in her life had it been over a person.

It was then that she realized she'd never had a real crush on someone until now. With Henry, there had been no crush. It had just happened, and it had happened so fast that by the time she had feelings for him, she also already had him—at least in their own bizarre way. Now, she was simultaneously experiencing what it felt like to have actual feelings for someone while, at the same time, realizing they did not feel the same way.


	13. Pizza

She took a heaving breath and turned away. She couldn't watch that anymore. She wasn't even sure where to go or what to do, but she'd found herself returning to where Durrin and Stuart were still talking. Durrin seemed to have moved on from his run in with Annabelle, seeing as the mood was now pleasant and casual—or at least it was before he noticed her face.

"You look like you're about to be ill," he said, watching her as she approached. "Did you drink too much?"

"Actually, not enough," she said, feeling herself shake a bit. She needed to pull herself together. If Jack hadn't been standing so close to the exit, she would have already left. Instead, she felt trapped.

"I'm going to get something," Stuart said, pointing toward where the drinks were. "Do you want something? I'll grab it."

She nodded, more for something to do since she was barely listening. She heard Durrin speak, and it took her several moments to realize that he was staring at her. Stuart had already gone.

"What's the matter?"

She wanted to tell him that nothing was wrong; to push away the question and pretend he'd never asked it. She wanted to tell him to mind his business and change the subject to anything else in the world. But instead, her words took control before she could think better of it. "I had to see the guy I fancy wrapped up with another girl."

Durrin's expression was sympathetic and said that he understood. He probably did. Everyone but her had probably experienced something like this before, and they'd probably been a lot younger when they had. She suddenly felt inexperienced.

"That's shit," he said, his voice quiet as he let silence fill between them. At least it had been quiet until he quite suddenly exclaimed, "Wait? Jack?"

"Yeah," she said, again her words somehow beating her brain. Why was she telling him this? She needed to stop talking.

"No kidding? That's the cutest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Piss off."

"I'm serious," he said, now smiling in a stupid way. "I'm into the idea of you two. My two little third-years. That warms my cold, dead heart."

"Did you miss the part where he's with another girl?"

"What happens here, stays here," he said, almost laughing. "Don't let that shit get you down. Have you talked to him? Told him how you feel?"

"No!" she yelled. A cold chill ran through her as she suddenly realized that, unlike Annabelle and Felicity, Durrin knew Jack and knew him well. They were friends and talked. Her stupid lack of filter could have just cost her a lot. This was why she shouldn't have walked back into this party; so much for Annabelle protecting her. "You can't say anything to him either, or so help me I will murder you! Fact."

"That seems extreme," he said, still with the stupid smile.

Another thought then hit her. He was friends with Ted and Victoire and Whit. He could tell them. Shit, if her sister found out...if Whit found out. Telling Durrin was probably worse than telling Jack. He could do far more damage.

"Shit, Durrin," she said, now panicked. "Seriously you cannot tell anyone. This is not information I'm ready to share."

"Who am I going to tell?"

"My sister. Ted. Whit. Anyone I go to school with."

"Oh, right, I guess I do know a lot of the people you know," he said, seemingly amused. "I still don't see why it's a big secret, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty drunk. I probably won't remember much of this tomorrow."

She wished more than ever that she could practice some memory charms. Not that it would matter, she was never very good at them.

Stuart had returned carrying several bottles of beer. He handed one to Durrin and one to her, which she took without thanking him and began to drink very quickly. She knew it wouldn't help her rattled nerves, but perhaps she could drink her embarrassment away; get to a point where she didn't care.

"Is that why you're trying to find a fuck buddy?" Durrin asked, swigging from his beer. "You're trying to distract yourself from Ja-?"

"That," she said abruptly, cutting him off as he spoke, "and I'm trying to rebound from my ex."

"Ah, yes, the famous Henry Davies."

"I still can't believe you went out with him," Stuart muttered. "I mean, he and I always got on, but he can be a real arsehole."

"Some would say the same thing about you," she said, looking him up and down. "My sister, probably. Ted, evidently. Most of my sister's friends. I'm actually still on the fence."

Both of the boys looked surprised by the random ferocity of her comment. Stuart shook his head, almost as if physically reacting to the verbal smack. Durrin was glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Well, shit. She told you."

"You really don't like me, do you?" Stuart asked.

She shrugged. "Believe it or not, I like you more than I did yesterday."

"You must have really not liked me yesterday."

"I'm sure you won't lose any sleep over it," she offered as she found herself grinning.

"Anyway," Durrin said immediately, trying to change the subject. "Where's the rest of the Hogwarts' crew? Can't only be you and Jack here, but I haven't seen anyone else."

She shrugged again. "Who knows? I don't think it'll surprise you to find out that I'm not exactly friends with any of them."

"Can't imagine why," Stuart mumbled.

She threw him a look, but ignored him and continued on with Durrin. "You remember how I can be, especially on the Quidditch pitch."

"I remember the fights, but I'd hoped most of that stayed on the pitch. We fought all the time, but I never disliked you. You were just a pain in my arse. I'd make you go fly laps when you really annoyed me."

"I probably flew hundreds of miles."

"Can't say you aren't well traveled."

Stuart cleared his throat. "Have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe it's you?"

She didn't even pretend to be offended by that. "I know I've made some enemies. I don't care. I'm not out there to make friends."

Durrin hummed, swigging from his drink again. "But you have made a few. You've clearly got Jack. As long as you've got someone out there on the pitch, you're doing alright."

"He's the exception," she said. "And we've had our ups and downs as well, but he's Jack. You know how he is. He gets along with everyone far better than I do."

"He does," Durrin said, shifting his drink from one hand to the other. "It's why I pushed for him to be captain. People like him. They listen to him."

For the second time in several minutes, she suddenly felt as if her senses had been flooded by an overwhelming feeling of discomfort. It was as if something in her chest decided to twist in that moment; that awful sinking feeling one gets when news has been confirmed. Even if she already knew it was the case, hearing those words come from Durrin's mouth felt like a knock to the gut.

She had moved past Jack getting captain, but to hear that the reason she didn't get to live her dream was because of a person—the person standing in front of her—decided that? That was a blow. Worst yet, the cavalier manner in which he'd said it made her realize that she'd never been considered. Jack had always been the choice.

She went to take a long gulp of her drink, but noticed there wasn't anything else left. She cleared her throat. "You pushed for Jack, then?"

Durrin was absently watching the card game again, having no idea that he'd sent her into a tailspin. "Sorry? Did I push for Jack? For captain? Yeah, of course."

She avoided eye contact with him now, not quite sure why this bothered her so much. She'd made peace with this. She couldn't let it keep coming up and hurting her. Why had she somehow convinced herself that Durrin had only been partially responsible instead of mostly? It was as if she'd led herself to believe that he was torn between the two choices; that it had been more of a 50/50 situation and that it had been Longbottom who'd ultimately chosen. She and Durrin had often butted heads, but she knew he respected her as an athlete and a teammate. He'd always said so.

"I'd thought it was maybe Longbottom," she said.

At that moment, something seemed to dawn on him. His expression was telling, and he was clearly trying to figure out if he'd said something he shouldn't have. "He had the final say. But he asked for my opinion."

She couldn't look at him. Stuart was standing there observing, having been silent the last minute or so. Perhaps even he sensed he shouldn't touch this one. She needed to get out of there. This topic mixed with how fucked up she felt did not bode well for her.

"Nicki," Durrin said, his tone almost consoling. She felt somewhat childlike at that moment, and she hated it.

"It's fine," she said. "You did what you had to do."

"Are you upset about this?" he asked. "I'm actually wondering why this is even a surprise. You said yourself, you don't get along with anyone."

"I got along with my own team," she countered before adding, "most of the time."

"I'd have never thought you would have—"

"Wanted to be captain?"

He glanced over at Stuart before looking back at her. "Thought you'd be a good one."

That really had felt like a punch in the stomach. She didn't even know what to say to that. It was as if she'd been petrified to the spot again, just like the day in Hogsmeade with Giggleswick.

"Let's say I did go out on a limb for you," he said. "You know Longbottom wasn't going to choose you over Jack, right? You got how many detentions for flying off the handle, both literally and figuratively? You got suspended from matches. You assaulted someone in front of an arena full of people."

"Everyone saw that," Stuart added.

"And as great as it was, as much as he deserved it, there was nothing I could have done to salvage that."

She clenched her jaw. Her high had definitely worn off because she was able to restrain herself now. It was definitely time for her to go. She was officially done with this night.

"I still think you're a bang up Seeker," Durrin said. "I wouldn't have traded you for the world. Even with all the added drama and hundreds of warnings we got. I wouldn't have."

Her smile was forced once again, though she still wouldn't look either of them in the eyes. "I need to go."

"Wait? Why?"

She sidestepped them both and pushed herself through the crowd and out the front door. Outside the air was cool and dry and the night sky was full of clouds blocking any trace of the stars or the moon. People were standing around talking, laughing, having a terrific time it seemed. She hated every single one of them.

She stopped to look up and down the paths that led to the various dorms, feeling slightly turned around. Was left to the Dorm A or was it right? There was music coming from the right, so that had to be one of the rowdier dorms. Dorm A would probably be in the quieter direction.

"Dominique," came a voice that was followed by a tap on the shoulder.

When she turned, she was entirely surprised to see Stuart standing there. She looked him up and down, wondering why he felt the need to follow her.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok," he said, seemingly sincere. "I don't know what Durrin said to upset you, but he's always speaking first and thinking second, and…" He shrugged. "You can ask Annabelle. He does it to her all the time. Anyway, I feel the need to apologize for him from time to time. You wouldn't be the first person I've done it for." He shrugged. "You won't be the last."

She stared at him. "I know Durrin well enough to know how he can be. I'm not angry. I'm just tired and ready to go." She pointed to the left. "Dorm A is that way, right?"

"Yeah, it is." He nodded and pointed just as she had. "You want me to show you?"

"Didn't you just do that?"

He laughed a little awkwardly. "I meant, I'd walk with you. If you wanted."

She continued to stare at him. She'd set herself up for this, letting him fall right into that typical protector response. It was late at night, lots of drunk people about, she was a small girl attempting to go off alone into the dark-—she naturally needed an escort. She didn't see why he cared, considering she'd spent most of their interactions insulting him, but some blokes couldn't resist an opportunity to be the hero. That or he was a glutton for punishment.

She reached out and pulled out her wand, holding it up for him to see. "I can manage. But thanks."

"I was headed that way anyway."

"For what?"

"Commissary. Fancy a snack."

Nice save. He was quick. She sighed. If he was that determined to not let her walk alone in the dark, then fuck it. Her parents had always warned her against being out in unfamiliar places on her own after dark, she might as well. Though, if he thought that this was her opening up an invitation for anything more, he was mistaken. He may have been handsome and had all of Hogwarts swooning at one point, but she'd never bought into it before; she wasn't now. She kept her wand out at her side and knew that even when she was fucked up, she could still aim well enough.

"Fine. Come on, then," she said lazily, turning down the path without waiting for him. He caught up easily, which wasn't surprising since his strides were considerably longer than hers. They didn't speak at first; instead, she chose to do the calculation in her head as to how long it would take to get from where they currently were to the front door Dorm A. She deduced it would roughly take about five minutes if they stayed on the same pace.

"So, if you're not angry with Durrin, why go back so early?" he finally asked.

"Is it early? It's got to be nearly midnight."

"Most people around here don't turn in until at least two."

She laughed that off. "No, thanks. Some of us are trying to achieve a decent ranking."

"Are you actually looking to play Quidditch someday? Professionally, I mean."

She finally turned to look at him, her face screwed up to let him know that was a dumb question. "Obviously. Why else would I be here?'

He shrugged. "I've come twice now and I've never thought about it. I've wanted to go into law since I took my O.W.L.s. This has always been something to do for fun."

"Well, you were never that great of a Chaser, so I can understand that."

She could feel him straighten up beside her. She had to assume that he was probably regretting his decision to walk her about now. "You think so, huh?"

"I know so," she said cooly, as if she were commenting on the weather and not his entire legacy as a Chaser. "You were fine, but you always flew too wide and took up too much space. You need to stay in your lane."

"Wow." He had laughed a little, but ultimately seemed a little lost for words. "I'm flattered you paid enough attention to notice."

She rolled her eyes. "I notice everything. I'm a Seeker, that's my job. You always flew too wide. Then the rest of your Chasing team—well, Thorpe was too obsessed with tricks and that slowed him down and made him sloppy. And Davies…" She stopped, already wishing she hadn't even said his name. "I could write a book on that one, so let's not even start. Though, I'll say you were better than he was. I'll give you that much."

He seemed to be intently listening as she added, "You always came off as the type that wanted to play Quidditch for the acclaim and the attention. And it worked. You got a House Cup and everyone looooooved you. You were the golden boy of Hogwarts."

He blew air through his nose in a quick and almost deflated way. "You seem to have me all figured out."

They walked the last twenty feet in silence, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing up the path and the distant tune of music reverberating off the walls of her dorm to be heard. When they reached the path that forked off to her dorm, Stuart said, "And here we are. Safe and sound."

"Yeah, that's for warding off all those attackers and potential dangers," she said, glancing back down the path. They'd only seen about six people on their journey and none had even given them a passing glance. Most had been completely preoccupied by their own business. One had been eating an obscenely large ice cream cone. "My hero."

"You are something else," he said, looking part annoyed and part amused. "But my folks raised me right, so I'll sleep better knowing I didn't let you wander off alone. Not that you probably wouldn't cut someone down with just a few words anyway. You seem fairly good at that."

She cracked a smile. It was clear that if he'd had any intentions, they were gone now. He was even keeping a safe five feet distance between them as his body language—with hands still shoved deep into his pockets—couldn't have been more closed off. "Well, thanks. Have a good night."

"You too," he said, and at that she turned and walked up the path to her dorm without even so much as a glance back. She pulled open the door and noticed the common area was mostly empty. Nothing more than a small group in the corner chatting, and a couple of friends near the door splitting a bottle of wine over their bookwork. It was such a stark contrast from where she'd come from that she had to blink several times in order to remember where she was. Her mind was still a bit fuzzy after mixing alcohol with the dragon's grass. She knew her body well enough that if she drank a big glass of water before bed, she'd wake up feeling fine.

After meandering down the corridor, she was still noticing the startling difference between how, in Dorm C, people were drinking and smoking in each room. Here, one closed door after another hid people who were presumably doing nothing more than sleeping. Perhaps before she left, after the rankings were out, she'd chance a quick trip into D to see what all the fuss was about. C had seemed like a mess, so she couldn't even imagine what people were doing in D. Orgies? Animal sacrifices?

She found her room and tapped the door with her wand, pushing it forward to enter. That was when everything happened so quickly that she didn't have time to process what she'd just stumbled into. It was dark and there was a small yelp, a grunt, the sound of a bed creaking under the weight of someone, shuffling, someone—a female, who had been kneeling on the floor-yelled, "Get out!" Then the door was quickly slammed closed with Dominique still on the other side of it. It had closed in her face and she found herself standing in the hallway blinking at it. What the fuck?

She stood back, trying to figure out what that was. Her mind was slowly putting the pieces together, and perhaps she wasn't as sober as she thought because it took her a good ten extra seconds to realize she'd walked on someone—presumably Jack—getting a blowjob. That was the only thing that made sense given the positions of the participants and the urgency to get her out of the room.

She immediately turned and headed back down the corridor, a cold sweat washing over her. What the hell? She should march in there and tell them both to go and fuck right off, but she found she couldn't bring herself to turn around and do that. She didn't want to be anywhere near there. She wanted to be as far away from that room as possible. She had to get out.

The people near the exit were still very involved in their bookwork, not even paying attention to the half drunk bottle of wine that was sitting on the table beside them. Dominique grabbed it as she passed, the overwhelming urge to drown that memory out with alcohol now overpowering her sense of right and wrong. Let them say something to her. They could chase her out into the night if they wanted it back. She didn't care.

Outside, it suddenly felt so much cooler than it had minutes earlier. It was as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees, though she was fairly sure it hadn't changed a bit. She made her way to a nearby bench and sat, swigging off the wine immediately. It was red and bold and warm as it went down. It felt good, so she drank more as she stared into the night.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? Why was she shaking all of the sudden? She looked down at her hand and sure enough, it was slightly trembling. Was that from the cold? Was that her? She had no idea. Yes, she had walked into a fucked up situation, but she should have pounded on the door and called them out. She should have kicked her out and then given Jack a good tongue-lashing—

She grimaced, gulping another large mouthful of wine. Tongue-lashing. Awful choice of words. Fuck. Why did she have to see that? Or rather, hear it. She actually hadn't seen much at all. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was almost as if her imagination was making it worse than it probably was. She gulped more wine.

A few minutes passed before she stood from the bench, feeling the need to get even further away. Where could she go? She didn't want to go back to the party because she didn't want to talk to people or deal with more dumb jerks offering their room as a place to stay. She didn't have any other real friends here that she could go and stay with. Her options were limited.

Suddenly, an idea struck her and it was thanks to Stuart it even occurred to her. She left the bottle of wine much lighter than she'd found it on the bench and started jogging toward the commissary, forgoing all paths and cutting directly across the grass. It was open twenty-four hours and never closed. It would make for the perfect place to ride out the night until she could bring herself to return to her room. Could she return to her room? She wasn't sure, but she at least had a place to think things over now.

The nearer she got, she immediately saw there were people inside, though it was by far the emptiest she'd ever seen it. After entering, she set forth immediately to where someone had setup puddings and sweets. There were cakes and pies and candies, even black licorice wands—her personal favorites. She didn't even hesitate to grab a pack before grabbing the nearest chair at the closest table.

The black licorice package tore open with little effort and she immediately began chewing on the first wand she grabbed. It wasn't until that moment that she realized her heart was racing.

Nearby, a small group of women were sharing a collection of pies between them, seemingly enjoying an evening snack. Two tables down, a couple was snogging; two tables beyond them, another couple was silently judging the other couple given their annoyed expressions. Drunk men were stuffing their faces, friends were talking over coffee, groups were working on their bookwork, and two people actually looked as if they were coming from working out. Who worked out at midnight? She rolled her eyes before letting her gaze settle across the room. It was there that she found a rather surprising sight.

Stuart was sitting with his back toward her and facing a wall; looking as if it was reading something on the table. He actually had been serious about that snack. Huh. She'd read that earlier situation all wrong.

She watched him for a minute before pushing her chair out and walking quite quickly over to his table. She didn't say a word, and didn't wait for him to say anything either, before pulling out and taking the seat directly across from him. He'd only just managed to look up from his Daily Prophet as she sat.

"You were actually coming for a snack?" she asked bluntly, her eyes staring right into his.

"Yes?" he said, glancing at his half eaten slice of pizza on the table.

"I thought you made that up."

"Why?"

"Excuse to walk me back when you know otherwise I would have told you to fuck off."

He watched her for a moment before letting his eyes travel back down to his newspaper. "You think I made up an excuse so that I could…?" He hummed a little. "Oh, I get it. You thought I was trying to—"

"I think you were until you realized I'm a bitch."

A small grin played at the corner of his lips, but he still didn't look up from his paper. "I thought you were going to bed? Something about needing rest so you can get the best ranking ever."

She inhaled slowly, staring vacantly at the table now as if she could see through it. "I wanted to. Then I walked in on my roommate," she paused for effect, "getting a blowjob."

He chuckled a little, but didn't look the slightest bit fazed by that piece of information. He casually flipped the page of his Prophet. "I've walked in on that at least twice already this week."

"But I don't want to see that."

"Did I make it seem as if I did? I've seen Durrin and Annabelle naked more than some of the girls I've actually been with."

"I just…I can't…I don't even know…This is Jack. He's one of my best friends and..."

He looked up. "Is this the same bloke you were trying to find back at the party?"

She nodded, still absently staring at the table as she picked up another licorice wand and aggressively tore the tip off.

"You talk about him a lot."

"Sorry, unlike you, I don't walk in on my friends getting blowjobs everyday, so it's kind of a story."

He went back to reading his paper. "Alright."

She watched him for a long moment as he continued to read through the business section—which seemed like a terribly boring thing to be doing in the middle of the night. "Didn't you already read that today? The new paper wouldn't be out until morning."

"I didn't read the whole thing," he said as he picked up his pizza and took a large bite.

She looked around the room again at all of the people either working, or stumbling in after partying, or using the spot as a place to see friends; here was Stuart Reynolds—THE Stuart Reynolds—reading the paper and eating pizza by himself. This somehow didn't fit the fantasy that so many of the girls at school had cooked up about him in their heads. He was supposed to be the life of the party, the 'it' guy, the one getting drunk and causing trouble, the one getting walked in on by his roommate every day. It seemed Durrin was more of that guy than Stuart was.

"This is your idea of a good time? Pizza and reading the Prophet after midnight?"

"It was until a few minutes ago." He looked up at her.

She ignored him and began chewing on her wand again, her buzz from before slipping away into something else entirely. She'd stopped shaking and calmed herself, but she could not stop thinking about what she'd seen and how her chest clenched up every time she replayed it in her head.

"This really has you worked up," he said, and she noticed then that'd he'd been observing her. "Have you just not seen a naked man before? Is this the first time you-?"

"For fucks sake," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I've seen a man naked. I've even given blowjobs—some public. A few in the Quidditch arena at school."

He stared at her. That had gotten his attention.

"I don't know why I told you that."

He leaned back in his chair. "Shit, you are nothing like your sister."

"Yeah, well, nice to meet you."

He was quiet for a moment before finally saying. "Ok, but now I've got questions. Were you in the tunnels? Or the changing rooms? Or right out on the pitch? You never got caught?"

She glared at him.

"Oh, come on. You can't say something like that and then not expect questions." He picked up the leftover crust from his pizza and pointed it at her. "Alright, well, we've established you've got no problem with the naked form."

She reached out to retrieve another licorice wand. "I see what you're trying to play at. Look, sex doesn't bother me. I'm not a prude. I'm all for people having it and having lots of it if that's what they want. Whatever."

"Then why are you upset?"

"Because it's my room and he's with this dumb girl—"

"So, you're all for people having sex and lots of it as long as it's not _this _guy with _this _girl in your room? That's what I'm hearing here."

"No, I mean, yeah…" She shook her head slowly. 'It's not…" She didn't know how to phrase it, but that wasn't it. When he said it, it sounded stupid.

"Do you not like this girl?"

She shrugged. "I don't know her."

"Then how do you know she's dumb?"

"I don't, but I also don't like random strangers fooling around in my room."

He shook his head. "Not a random stranger. An invited guest."

"You're obnoxious," she muttered, already tired of this conversation and regretting that she'd come over. "No one asked you."

"You asked me when you sat down and started talking," he said, leaning back in his chair for a brief moment before he glanced up at the food counter. "I'm going to get more pizza. Are you going to be here when I get back?"

She sighed and slowly looked around the room at all the random, strange faces. "I don't really have anywhere else to go right now, so...probably."

He stood up, his expression seemingly accepting that and not reacting one way or the other. He disappeared to go and get pizza while Dominique grabbed another licorice wand and absently began to chew on it, feeling somewhat like a small rodent gnawing on the end of a stick. She'd calmed down, but now wanted the image to disappear.

She'd walked in on Louis and Sarah once, in her own living room and in various stages of undress. There had been hands below the waistline, but that was all she'd managed to see before immediately shouting out in shock before walking straight back out the door. It had been alarming to walk in on it, but after the initial shock had worn off, she'd actually found it rather funny to remind them. They, of course, were embarrassed—Sarah more than Louis—but after a day or so it had just turned into a bit of a joke for everyone. Maybe that's where she was now. The initial shock hadn't worn off.

Stuart returned, having brought himself more pizza and setting it down on the table. When he sat back down, he gestured to her licorice wands. "I've never known anyone to eat the black wands. Most people think they're disgusting."

"They're my favorite," she said with her mouth full.

"That explains a lot."

She rolled her eyes. Stuart Reynolds had jokes. Shame they weren't very funny.

"Why aren't you out there living up to your reputation?" she asked, her head lazily resting on her hand.

"What's my reputation?"

"I dunno," she mumbled. "Being Stuart Reynolds. Whatever that means. Seems pretty exciting from what I hear."

"Well, not sure what you've heard, but I'm rather boring," he said as he picked up his pizza and gestured to his Prophet. "I do like to drink with my friends and cut loose when I can, but some of them—like Durrin and Annabelle, especially when they're together—like to get absolutely wrecked every night and I don't have it in me to do that all the time. Especially when it's the same shit, different day around here. It gets old."

"So, instead you eat pizza and read the newspaper?"

"Tonight I do," he said. "But I've also been pretty drunk the last two nights."

She continued to stare at him. She'd regained her filter mostly, but there was still a part of her that was feeling rather blunt. She was also bored, which was a dangerous combination because now she'd find herself prying into him. She suddenly gestured to his facial hair. "Why the facial hair?"

He reached up and absently ran his hand along his jawline. "I feel it makes me look older. I want to be taken more seriously at work."

"You don't look that much older."

"I'll take what I can get."

She looked down at his pizza. "Why do you only eat plain cheese?"

"There's only two kinds and the other one had sausage on it."

"You don't like sausage?"

"I'm a vegetarian."

She blinked at that. For whatever reason, that surprised her. She would have never assumed that about him since he didn't seem like the type—was there a type? Then again, he didn't seem like much of anything she'd really had him pegged as. "Really?"

He nodded. "My whole family is. It's how I was raised."

"Have you ever had meat?"

He seemed to think about that for a long moment. "I know I had chicken once as a kid. Didn't care for it."

"But there's so many other kinds. Maybe you just didn't like chicken."

He continued to eat his pizza and waited until swallowing before saying, "Can't miss what you've never had."

That was a fair point; her expression conveyed as much as she continued to absently watch him as he ate his pizza bite by bite.

"Why all the questions?" he asked.

"I'm bored and you're here."

"Alright, well now I've got one," he said. "Hermione Granger-Weasley. Last name's match, so she is your…what? How are you related?"

"My aunt," she said, pulling out another wand to eat. There was only one left after that, which made her feel sadder than it should have. "She married my dad's brother. Why? Do you know her?"

"She's my boss. Or my boss's boss, rather. Just wondered." He seemed to take a long look at her, longer than what would be considered polite. "You seem to be related to a lot of important people."

"Lucky me being born into the right family," she said sarcastically. "Which is funny since the Weasley name was basically dirt back before the war."

"Not particularly a fan of famous life, are you?"

She looked away and shrugged. "It's my family. You said it yourself—you can't miss what you never had. I can't miss having a—" she made air quotes with her fingers, "'normal family' when I've never had one. Growing up in the shadow of the Weasleys and Potters is all I've ever known."

"What's he really like?" Stuart asked. "Harry Potter, I mean."

Dominique was asked this question from time to time, though she never had a particularly exciting answer to give people. She knew people wanted to hear interesting details, but her very famous uncle was actually very boring.

"Boring, actually. Keeps to himself and isn't particularly social outside of the people he keeps close. I don't think I've had many conversations with him, if I'm being honest. The ones I've had have been about Quidditch. We both played Seeker for Gryffindor, so he'll ask me about that. I'm closer to my Aunt Ginny—his wife. I see him when she's around. Otherwise, he really does keep to himself."

"That's not surprising," he said. "If I were him I'd probably keep to myself too."

They both found themselves staring at each other then. It was a charged moment, like something had switched on all of the sudden and the tone was now changed. He was looking at her differently. It couldn't possibly have to do with the talk of her famous family since everyone knew the Weasleys and Potters were one in the same; that wasn't a new revelation to anyone. But he was certainly watching her more carefully all of the sudden. She had to admit, she didn't hate it.

"Why'd you and Davies split up?" he asked, finally breaking eye contact.

"We had an expiration date," she muttered. "That's what I was told."

"He said that?" He made a face as if he found that comment to be a bit much. "What a twat."

She took a very large breath. "Funny thing is that I knew he was and I still…" She shook her head, laughing a little before adding. "It's better this way. I mean, he's right. I'm going back to school and he's not. What's the point?"

"I get that," he said. "I broke up with my ex—Liz, you mentioned you knew her—anyway, I did the same thing. Threw away years because I would be at school and she would be gone and we'd barely see each other. Who wants that at seventeen? We'd reached a stagnant point, and even though I still loved her, I wanted to see what else was out there. So, I did it. It was stupid decision and I regretted it almost immediately. Even managed to get her to take me back at some point, but things were different. We didn't last long."

"But you regretted it?" she asked, thinking of Henry and wondering if for even a second, he'd also regretted it.

Stuart nodded. "Yeah, especially since she moved on with my best friend. He's obviously not my friend anymore, but he was at the time. They've been together for awhile now." He grimaced. "I hear they're very happy."

She smiled at him, even letting herself laugh a bit. It probably wasn't the most appropriate reaction, but it was the one he got. He didn't seem to mind much since his grimace warmed into an actual smile. She realized then she didn't think he was an arsehole, not as a defining characteristic at least. He could be one, sure, but so could she. So could most people. He just seemed like he made some stupid choices, but she was a champion of doing that. They had that in common.

At that moment, she decided that he was quite handsome after all and-dare she say it, but she found herself attracted to him. She'd be dumb to think that if given the opportunity, she wouldn't hook up with him. Just like that, years and years of being annoyed by his mere existence had turned off. If everyone else was going to go around putting their bits into other people, why couldn't she? That had been her goal after all, hadn't it? Find someone for some meaningless sex? He ticked off all of her boxes, after all. She wouldn't have to ever really see him again. He was far from ugly. It could easily be a one night thing. Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. He was a pretty fit someone else.

"Since we're playing the question game," he said, cutting through the silence once more. "What's the answer to the one I asked earlier? About where in the Quidditch arena you managed to blow a guy without getting caught."

She laughed, now feeling as if they were headed in the same direction. Talking about sex was a good way to potentially lead into it. She had to wonder if he'd asked that question on purpose after also feeling the sudden shift. "You're really keen on getting an answer to that one?"

"A bit, yeah. Never managed to make it down there for anything like that."

"Just in the tunnels and changing rooms. A bit exposed, but it made it more fun. The thrill and all."

He looked impressed to hear that. "Bold. And you never got caught?"

She shook her head. "You remember there were corners and nooks down there? Where'd you go?"

"Mostly in my room. She and I were both in the same house, so it was easy. Also, Prefects' bathroom. You ever fooled around in there?"

She shook her head again. She was neither a Prefect nor a Quidditch captain and had no access to it. Oddly enough, Henry had but he'd never once mentioned it. She wasn't even sure he'd known it was there or that he technically could use it. Seemed like a missed opportunity.

Stuart made a face as if to say she was missing out. "If you ever get the chance, take it. They've got a bathtub in there, but it's more a small swimming pool. It's got a million bubbles and these great smelling soaps. It's amazing. You could have a lot of good, clean fun." He grinned. "Or dirty fun. Whichever you prefer."

"Good to know," she said, grinning back at him. "I do enjoy some dirty fun. And then there would be very easy access to clean up, which is nice."

"It's very convenient," he said slowly, letting his gaze linger once more. There they went again with the looks and stares. She was new to this whole thing, but she felt as if he was now feeling as keen as she was. She couldn't be sure, but since she was shitty at playing the game, she may as well just ask.

"Were you actually trying to pull me earlier?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, his ever charming smile now appearing on his face. To be that bloody confident must have been an amazing feeling. She may not be good at this game, but he was a professional who was now in his element. "That is to say, I was putting out feelers because I think you're gorgeous, but then I backed off because you didn't bite at anything."

"Turns out it was the pizza and the midnight reading that really did it for me." She smiled. "Who knew?"

"I knew I should have led with pizza."

She laughed before they again stared at each other for another prolonged moment. She inhaled slowly before finally deciding to just say what they were both thinking. "So, tell me more about your definition of dirty fun?"

He shrugged. "If you're keen, I'd be happy to show you. Hard to explain, really."

"I am a visual learner."

He smirked. "I think we can both come up with some visuals."

She nodded as if she were carefully thinking that over. "I do enjoy visuals. But my room is a bit occupied, so we'd have to go to yours. Unless you think Durrin—"

"I'll handle Durrin," he said before he slid his chair back and wiped his hands on a napkin. It had been such a normal gesture for such an abnormal situation. Did they really just agree to go and have sex that easily? Just like that? Was it really that easy?

"You coming?" he'd asked, and she realized he was waiting for her. She'd zoned out for a moment, but as she looked him up and down—he was quite tall and handsome—and was now realizing she would get to see him naked in a few minutes time. This was definitely a fresh start. This could be a good time.

She stood and walked around the table, stopping right in front of him. "I better be or else this is a waste of time."


	14. Imaginary High Ground

Dominique opened her eyes slowly, but immediately closed them since a beam of sunlight was hitting her across the face in the most perfectly annoying way. She squinted before raising her arm up to block it. Her head felt heavy and her mouth was dry. She really needed a glass of water. What time was it–?

Her eyes suddenly flew open as she slammed her arm down beside her. Sunlight? There wasn't any sunlight in her room. There was nothing but a brick wall outside of her window.

She glanced to her left and saw Stuart stirring awake due to all of the sudden movement. In an instant, everything came flooding back. All of last night. The party. Walking in on Jack. The commissary. The sex. She'd fallen asleep and never gone back to her dorm. Her night still hadn't technically ended.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, pulling herself up and out of bed. What time was it? The sun was out so it couldn't have been that early. Where were her clothes? There was something ridiculous about standing around in someone else's room, stark naked, while helplessly fumbling for any item of clothing that she owned. This was not a game she enjoyed playing.

She found one of her trainers. Her shirt. The other trainer was under the bed next to her bra. Where were her leggings? She reached up and rubbed her throbbing head. It was killing her. How had she ever thought this was a good idea? She was going to have to be on the pitch in the heat for hours today.

"Here," came Stuart's voice. He was sitting up in bed and holding her leggings, which apparently had been mixed up together in the bed. Her knickers were conveniently rolled up in them–they'd apparently been removed together—so that made one less thing she would have to find.

"Thanks," she said, plucking them out of his hands, flipping them inside and out, and jumping around to squeeze herself into them. "Do you know what time it is? There's no clock in here."

Stuart flipped himself over in order to reach for the nearby nightstand. There he pulled out a watch and examined. "Shit, it's a quarter to eight."

"Seriously!? I'm going to be so bloody late," she said, jumping faster to pull the last bit of her legging up as panic now struck her. Fifteen minutes. She had fifteen minutes to get back to her dorm, get her broom and a water bottle–because she wasn't making it five minutes without that–and get all the way out to her pitch. That was impossible. She scrambled to stomp her trainers onto her feet and immediately made a mad dash for the door.

"Hey, wait–"

"Really great night, loads of fun, thanks," she rambled, opening the door and dashing out into the corridor. She'd made it halfway down before an unfamiliar lightness about her person struck her. Something was off. She was forgetting…

She immediately ran back and knocked on the door. A very naked Stuart answered it, though he used the door to shield himself from onlookers. He was already holding her wand. "I tried to tell you. "

"Yeah, thanks," she said, snatching it and now actually running down the corridor toward the common area. She tore through the exit and out into the bright morning sun. She was already feeling winded and she'd only run a short distance. She was so thirsty and her head was absolutely rocking.

She'd probably gotten maybe three or four hours of sleep. This was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid, and yet she'd been stupid enough to let herself get distracted by some alcohol, a good looking guy, and some sex.

Even though the sex had been really good–really good. Wow...Yeah, that part was coming back to her now. They'd gone at it twice and he clearly had experience because he knew all the spots to touch and with what parts of himself to touch them with. There was something to laying her intentions out from the start that she'd have to remember, because there hadn't been any awkward questions or unsure expectations. They'd gotten back to his room, he'd kissed her and pulled off his clothes within seconds, and they were naked and all over each other within minutes. It had taken Henry about five or six times before he finally managed to get her off. It took Stuart about five or six minutes once he really started trying.

She almost felt bad for every having negative thoughts about him because if she knew he'd been capable of that, she'd have been nicer from day one. But no, stop that. Think about sex later. She had to focus. She'd already let one stupid mistake set her back this morning; she needed to get her head in the game.

She wasn't sure she'd ever run so fast in her life as she reached A Dorm and pulled open the front door. The common area was empty, obviously since everyone was dutifully at practice. Her chest heaved as she raced to her room and unlocked the door. Unlike the last time she'd gone and done that, the room was now empty. She also pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she changed into a dirty sports bra and the same t-shirt she'd worn last night. She threw on her practice shorts from the day before, grabbed her broom and her water bottle, and even managed to grab a hair tie before racing out the door.

She made it back to the common area and stopped to fill up her water bottle with her wand. If she didn't, there was a good chance she was going to pass out before she even made it to the pitch. She gulped down the first bottle–the feeling of cold water better than any other possible sensation in the world–and went to refill it before noticing that the clock said she had just under five minutes. It took her ten to walk there, so if she ran top speed–if she even had top speed left in her–she could make it on time.

She clipped her water bottle to her broom and took off out the door. Out on the path, the stragglers were casually strolling to their pitches–happy to be five or ten minutes late. She dodged and weaved around them, attempting to avoid crashing into their slow moving bodies. Her head felt like splitting open, but at least she had water in her now. That would help a little. She was trying to remain positive; salvage what was left of the morning. She could still work this out. She felt like shit, but she just had to push through.

Her pitch came into sight and she slowed slightly so as to not look like a loon racing up. She swallowed hard as she speed-walked the rest of the way, sweat already dripping into her eyes. She'd probably run over a mile and a half since she'd left Stuart's room; as she entered the gate, she assumed she had either just made it or was maybe a minute late. She was happy with either scenario until she noticed the coach who was standing there talking to the rest of their small group. She'd completely forgotten that they were starting the day with Sabatino.

Fuck. It was as if what little air she had left was sucked out of her. Her head started to throb even harder as she drew nearer to him–a living, breathing headache. He glanced at her as she approached, checking his watch in an obvious way as if to alert her of the time. He said nothing, which made her think she must have been on time–even if by milliseconds. She'd heard he'd been kicking people out of practices all week for tardiness, so if she was allowed to stay, she must have somehow made it.

He was unimpressed given his tight-lipped frown and creased forehead. His eyes were still hidden beneath those stupid sunglasses, but she didn't need to see them to know they were probably angry as well.

"As I was saying," Sabatino said curtly as Dominique joined the rest of them. "You four–" He paused and looked at her, "rather, five, now that you've all decided to actually show up, are what's left of the top group–if one can call you that. If it were up to me, I'd easily cut you down to three, but that's not my choice."

He gave the group a long once over, and she swore he let his gaze linger on her longer than she would have liked. "Rankings come out tomorrow and this is the last opportunity you will have to impress me. I am not easily impressed. I do not give a fuck if you're the best Seeker to have ever played at your school in the history of existance. I've yet to see anything out here worthy of professional Quidditch, so someone had better show me something today–some real fucking speed–or else I'm scoring you all down for wasting my time. Are we clear?"

There was a murmur of acknowledgement as Sabatino waved his hands and signaled for them to get to the sky. Dominique felt a little nauseated as she gripped her broom, but took deep breaths as she looked around at everyone readying themselves to begin. The Durmstrang boy was gone, leaving only the invitation Seekers, the girl from Durmstrang, herself, and Giggleswick–the latter of whom was currently staring at her fairly horrified. She looked away, not at all in the mood for him to cause her even one more moment of distraction today.

It. Was. Bad. Actually, bad would have been a level up from how she performed; she was downright abysmal. Sabatino had immediately made them start laps, and instead of allowing them to gradually build up speed, he instead insisted they go straight into their top speed mode and maintain it for a continual twenty five laps. Dominique was struggling to maintain her balance at just mid-speed, and when she'd finally managed to pull out something resembling her usual top speed, she'd only maintained it for a lap and a half before the pressure in her head felt as if it was going to completely rip her skull open.

She could hear Sabatino barking at her–swearing at a mile a minute–but his words weren't registering. Everyone around her was zipping by at incredible speeds, but she couldn't even look at them without feeling dizzy and nauseated. She got through nineteen laps before she had to land and vomit on the pitch.

"I sure hope you've got dragon pox," said Sabatino, his wand already out and making the mess she'd made on the pitch vanish.

She turned to stare at him, her vision blurry and sweat dripping off her face. She almost felt that death would have been welcomed at that moment.

"Because if you showed up hungover–"

"I didn't," she lied, squinting in his general direction because the sun was overwhelmingly blinding. "I...don't feel well."

"Then why didn't you stop by the medic this morning? Why are you here?"

"I didn't realize..."

"Go and see the medic!" he snapped, pointing in the direction of camp. "They'll evaluate you and let me know whether you're actually ill or if you're full of shit. They'll let me know whether you've decided that whatever it was you did last night was more important than anything we're doing out here."

She forced herself to stand up. She didn't want to do any of that; she definitely didn't need documentation that proved she was hungover and lacking sleep. She would never bounce back from that–especially with Sabatino. As much as she wanted to seek medical attention to make her terrible headache and queasiness go away, she couldn't risk it. She instead looked him in the eye and, through gritted teeth, muttered. "I'm fine. I feel much better now."

He stared back at her; she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of his sunglasses, noticing that she truly looked awful and could have passed for having dragon pox easily. "If you're sick, then get out and get yourself evaluated."

"I feel fine now," she reiterated in a strained tone. "I would hate to miss a minute of your session."

He wasn't amused. "If you're ill on my pitch one more time, you're done."

"Then I won't do it again," she said, forcing herself past him and mounting her broom once more.

It wasn't any better once she got back up there. She looked sloppy and slow; every lap she took was under her average time. Once Sabatino started having them race one another from opposite ends of the pitch to randomly retrieve Snitches, she lost every time. Giggleswick even looked shocked by how handily he'd beaten her, having reached the Snitch at least five broom lengths ahead of her. She wasn't even sure if everyone else was doing well or she was doing so poorly by comparison, but it was a complete shitshow.

She did manage to achieve one goal for the morning. She didn't vomit again on his pitch.

When they broke for lunch, she did nothing more than collapse on the pitch–her face down in the grass. She wanted to die. She wanted to crawl inside of a hole and die. How could she have been so stupid? What had she been thinking letting herself get into this? And in front of Sabatino, of all bloody people? She'd be lucky if he ranked her at all. Maybe it would be better if he didn't.

She knew she should make a mad dash to the medic's office for some sort of relief, but there would be no time. She'd be late for her afternoon session, angering Ahlgren and losing what little good standing she had left. Plus, she didn't think she could handle doing anything right now other than lying face down in the grass. She had an hour where she could close her eyes and attempt to fix herself. She had to fix herself.

"In case you were wondering," came Sabatino's voice, though when she lifted her head to see him, he was walking right past her without stopping. "You get no extra points for toughing it out. I don't give a shit. Next time, drink less and you won't look like shit out there." He turned to call over his shoulder, "Or maybe you still would."

Cursing him would surely get her kicked out of camp, and she didn't have the energy to do it anyway. She let her head thud back down on the ground. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong.

She drank what felt like her body weight in water before starting her afternoon session with Ahlgren. While the break had helped subside some of her more awful hangover symptoms, her head still hurt and she was too exhausted to focus the way she was supposed to. This was a very large problem, considering Ahlgren's entire session highlighted the importance of a Seeker's focus. Even worse, Giggleswick looked even more stellar by comparison seeing as his focus was generally his strongest asset. He took advantage of the fact by selecting her specifically to compete against time after time–whereas usually, he would never have chosen her.

It was one thing to perform badly, but it was another to let Giggleswick look like a bloody superstar by comparison. Ahlgren seemed confused by it all and even stopped to ask her if she was feeling alright, but she again pushed through without complaint. She would perform drill after drill–ready to collapse by the end, but she'd done each one. She'd done them poorly, but she'd done them.

Once the day was finally over, she'd gone straight back to the dorm. She didn't speak to anyone. She didn't shower, she didn't eat, she didn't change her clothes, she didn't even pull her bedsheets back. The only thing she did was throw her workbook off of her bed and onto the floor—listening as the papers scattered everywhere— and dropped onto her bed. She passed out within minutes. If someone asked, she couldn't even recall how she'd gotten there.

When she did wake the following morning, it was still dark outside; there was no sunlight to startle her awake today. The room was black with the only exception being the crack of light from beneath the doorframe.

She reached for her wand; fumbling for a bit as she reached to the spots where she usually kept it while sleeping. The crack between the wall and the bed, down at the foot, under her pillow–nothing turned up. She reached down to the floor and started fumbling around, her hand coming across something that had to have been it. She'd apparently dropped it before crashing last night.

Picking it up, she cast a single beam of light across the room and shined it first onto Jack's bed. He was there, his bare back to her and fast asleep. It was almost like seeing a ghost since it had been ages since she'd last seen him. She pointed the light to where she knew the clock was hanging and, while squinting, managed to see that it was four in the morning. She's been asleep for almost eleven hours.

She rubbed her face, right as the smell of her now hit her nostrils directly. It wasn't particularly pungent, but it wasn't pleasant either; definitely an old, stale, sweat odor. It was a nostalgic smell; one she hadn't experienced in awhile. She frequently used to fall asleep after Quidditch practice without a shower, and sometimes without even changing her clothes. It seemed rather gross in retrospect, and no wonder Natalie and Eleanor–and Sarah, to a lesser degree—used to turn up their noses and passive-aggressively complain when they had to share a room with that. She had to admit, smelling herself now, those must have been unbearable years for all of them.

A small wave of embarrassment washed over her as she wondered whether she smelled bad enough for Jack to have noticed. Their beds weren't that far apart. It couldn't have been that bad if he hadn't run from the room in horror. Perhaps she was overthinking it. It wasn't as if every corner of this place didn't smell like a changing room. And after all, he is a Beater and they're notoriously the smelliest member of any Quidditch team–even if he never fit that stereotype. He actually always smelled really nice. It was something she'd noticed this week. Now she felt self-conscious again.

She kicked off her blanket and pushed herself out of bed, holding her wand with one hand and shining it on her things in search of new, clean clothes and toiletries. Once gathered, she crept as quietly as she could out into the brightly lit hallway. It was empty, though she could hear some noises coming from the common area. She apparently wasn't the only one awake right now.

She slowly pulled the door shut behind her and walked down to the showers, where someone was currently occupying a stall and singing a quiet song. When she let the door slam shut behind her, the voice disappeared–obviously realizing they were no longer alone. She paid them no attention and chose the stall the furthest away, tapping her wand to the faucet to get the water warm.

After shedding those awful clothes, she stepped in and let the water run over her. It was a moment of bliss. The feeling of showering when you so desperately needed one could not be beaten. Time to start a new day; wash the rubbish from yesterday off of herself entirely. She realized then that she hadn't showered since sleeping with Stuart–she'd never had time the previous morning. That made things seem more disgusting as she was now washing off Quidditch and stale sex. Terrific.

Today had to be different, she told herself, shutting her eyes and tilting her head directly up into the stream of water. It had to be. Yesterday–what she could remember of it–had been a shitshow. She may have thrown everything away because of an emotional night. Today the rankings came out, and hers would certainly suffer after her poor performance yesterday. She shouldn't have stayed out all night and crawled into some boy's bed–even if it had been fun. She shouldn't have lost focus. She needed to regain her focus.

She finished scrubbing every inch of herself with soap and water, then toweled off and dressed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and recognized herself again–at least more than she had in the previous days and weeks. It was stupid–she ultimately looked the same–but the fire was back in her eyes. She had issues, but she could deal with them once the Trials were over.

She walked back down the corridor and noticed there were two pieces of yellow parchment now affixed to everyone's door. On her door, she saw her name printed on one while Jack's was printed on the other. Apparently, whomever was in charge did know how to find people even if they had switched rooms.

She tore hers down and opened it, noticing that it was a schedule for the day. Quidditch matches with times and pitches assigned to them. Today was the day they got to play actual matches— proper ones. No more stupid practice exercises. That alone was enough to brighten her mood—especially since she'd noticed that at the top of the page, right under name, she was now classified under the B group. She'd been dropped out of the A group.

She sighed. It was what she deserved. She couldn't dwell on it. It was only a minor set back.

Jack was still fast asleep when she crept back into her room and she did her best to not disturb him. She knew she had to collect her workbook and complete what was left, having done nothing in the last two days. They were due by the start of day at eight o'clock, so she had the time. She could take them to the commissary; get an early jump, finish her work, eat some breakfast. Get a fresh start.

She stumbled around for her book, remembering she'd thrown them onto the ground the day before. The papers had probably scattered and she would have to find them all in the dark and piece the book back together. That made her want to kick herself, but a quick scan of the floor turned up no papers or book. She shined her light all over and under her bed, but still saw nothing. It wasn't until she landed on the side table that she saw it; all in one piece. She definitely hadn't placed it there the day before. When she picked it up to examine it, all the papers were neatly tucked inside. How had it…?

She glanced over at Jack's bed.

He must have cleaned it up. No one else would have. She also noticed then that he was missing his top blanket, using only a top sheet to cover himself. She flipped the light onto her own bed where–what must have been–his blanket was now crumbled in a heap at the foot of her bed from where she'd kicked it off. Her bed was still made and she'd apparently slept on top of all the covers. He'd given her his blanket after she'd passed out on top of hers.

"_Arse_," she whispered, but she didn't mean it in the least. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and she would have said it to his face had he been awake. She knew the only way she could show affection was by insulting someone, another habit she desperately needed to break, but she didn't know how to handle people caring about her.

She grabbed the book and crept back out of the room; back into the corridor and down and out of the building. There were a few people out and about, some up early to work out or perhaps early risers in general. She made her way down to the commissary, which had about twenty people throughout. They were mostly eating and getting ready to start their day, though there was one group of about four people who still looked quite drunk from the night before. They were the loudest–laughing and throwing waffles at each other.

She grabbed a plate of fruit and a bowl of porridge and took it to an empty table. Once she inhaled all the food she'd picked up–having just realized how hungry she was–and then getting seconds on top of that, she opened her book and began to flip through the pages to see what she needed to work on.

As she did, she noticed that not a single page was out of order. Not only had Jack pieced the book back together, he'd done it correctly. That would have probably taken him at least fifteen minutes. What an arse.

Quill in hand, she set to work. She made notes in the margins and began reading over every plan and play. She answered the questions she came across, filled in every blank Seeker's route that it asked her to, and even managed to get a two paragraph essay written about the different dive techniques a Seeker should instinctually utilize during an immediate Snitch retrieval. It had taken her two hours, but she'd finished it all. She'd caught up. She hadn't missed a single day's paperwork; at least she had that going for her. Two points to her ranking that she was sure she needed.

She pushed the book out of the way and noticed the commissary was starting to get much busier. These were the early risers–the one who needed to eat their breakfast before their personal workouts before they started their long days of Quidditch. As she set to finishing some strawberries she'd left on her plate earlier, she wished she had the discipline to be up as early as they were. The best she could do was wake up with enough time for breakfast and a bit of stretching. These people were going to weightlift and run.

She still found herself hungry after starving herself the day before and decided to grab more to eat. Maybe a waffle or two; perhaps some eggs. It all looked good. Her stomach was now as awake as the rest of her, and it was making its presence known..

For the sake of having something to do while she ate, she began flipping through her workbook again, just randomly scanning pages and checking her answers. She wasn't really reading, but she must have been more focused that she thought, because she hadn't noticed the chair being pulled out across from her until someone sat down in it. When she looked up, Jack was there–dressed to go for a run. He had a bottle of water in his hand but no food.

Unlike her, who had just taken an awkwardly large bite of her waffle. She tried to swallow, making a sheepish face as she did. She could hear her mother's words of, "That's unladylike, Dominique. Smaller bites," suddenly ring in her memory from many dinner table conversations over the years. This was the first time in her life she found herself seeing her point.

"Hey," he said slowly, now making a sheepish face of his own.

"Hi," she finally stammered out, sitting up straighter.

"Glad to see you're up and about. Yesterday, you were–."

"I was tired."

"Rough day?"

"Yes," she said, noticing then that the Slytherin girls had wandered in from the front entrance. Why was everyone up so early?

"What happened?" he asked, and she refocused on him. His tone seemed especially earnest. He wasn't casually asking to make conversation; he seemed to genuinely want to know.

She pushed her plate away from her. "I didn't sleep much the night before."

"You never came back."

"Oh, I came back."

He frowned a bit. "I meant you didn't come back after _that. _You weren't there in the morning and your bed hadn't been slept in."

"I figured something out," she said, just as Zara and Erin approached on the way to get food.

"Morning," Erin to them, looking sleepy but pushing along. Zara went and tousled Jack's hair in a playful way, which had all seemed a rather friendly exchange. Why were they all so chummy all of the sudden? It was starting to feel as if Jack was a different person in this place.

"Hey. Morning," he said, throwing them a cursory nod before returning his attention to her. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

She had watched Zara and Erin walk off before turning back to face him. "After walking in on you, I wasn't quite sure I could..." She trailed off. She genuinely could not think of the right thing to say to finish that sentence. Every part of her was telling her to make a joke and take the piss, but the words weren't coming. Nothing was coming.

She could feel his eyes on her and it took her a long moment to finally meet his gaze. She tried to make her face seem as expressionless as possible, but it was hard when he looked so apologetic.

It was strange. Their dynamic worked in a way that she normally would be joking about what had happened. Then he would react by being embarrassed, but also a bit proud. They'd eventually laugh and have a funny story to tell, but instead they both were stone faced. She was unable to find words and he looked rather lost.

"I'm really sorry about that," he finally said.

She waved him off. "For what? Don't be stupid. I didn't really care, I was just a bit shocked and I'd been drinking and..." She forced a smile. "Well done, you. That's the whole point, right? To have fun. To go wild." She coughed, feeling now like she was rambling. "Anyway, perhaps next time we should just figure out a sort of signaling system. That way I won't just barge in and–"

"There won't be a next time," he interrupted, now taking a very deep breath. It was the sort of deep breath that made her realize something else was coming.

"What do you mean?"

"Because that night–the night you walked in on me–before that..." He stopped. "I…" He stopped again, struggling to get it out. "Alright, so you remember how Vanessa and I were talking?"

She shrugged. "

"Well, things were good. We were chatting and drinking and, I guess, she was trying to keep up with me, but apparently she doesn't drink. As in, maybe some champagne at a wedding and that's all she's ever had. We're two beers in and she's already pissed. Three beers in and she's wrecked. Falling over, can't function properly. She can barely stand up." He paused for a moment to rub his face. "Also, her friend was there with us. Do you remember her? She sort of hung around us all night."

"Yeah," she said unenthusiastically. "She and I had a chat. We're apparently friends now."

Jack made a laughing sort of noise, but it was completely humorless. It was more of a doubtful scoff disguised as a laugh. When her eyes silently questioned that reaction, he held up a finger as if to say, "_let me finish."_

"So, the friend says that she needs to get Vanessa back to the dorms, but she can't do it alone. Asks me to help, and of course I say yes. I then have to carry her from the party back to Dorm A. I get her back there and her friend let's us into their room. I put her in bed and she's already sound asleep. She's out. I figured that was that. I'd call it a night."

"Wait," Dominique said, suddenly feeling as if this didn't make any sense. "If she passed out in her bed, then who did I…?"

He stared at her. He didn't look particularly proud of where this story was going and seemed to be willing her to connect the dots herself.

"I'm not following."

"So," he clicked his tongue in a heavy sort of way, "mind you, I've been drinking too and I'm a bit out of it, but I'm heading back to our room and the friend catches up to me. Wants to talk."

Like a Bludger to the head, it hit her. Her jaw dropped. If it dropped any further it would detach from her skull.

"Yeah," he said slowly. He sounded embarrassed. "Looking back, I should have seen the signs. She was really flirty, which was weird considering I was talking to her friend, but sometimes you meet girls like that. You know, they're just naturally flirty people but they don't mean anything. I didn't think much of it until she asked if she could see my room. I do remember thinking it was strange since it looked exactly as hers did."

She blinked. She suddenly had so many questions, but she couldn't figure out which to ask first. She gaped once or twice, eventually settling on just staring at him with extreme amusement. She felt confident once more that she could now take the piss again. She'd found it in her.

"One thing led to another," he continued. "Then you showed up and that was a bit of a wake up call. I started to realize what had happened and told her I was tired and going to sleep. She offered to stay, but I told her that you–" he glanced back at her– "were due back any minute. She left after that. Then I fell asleep."

Dominique laughed out loud, not even attempting to hide it.

"Complete mess," he mumbled, putting his elbow on the table and letting his head rest on his fist. "When I woke up in the morning and thought about what had happened, I felt like an arsehole."

She grinned at him. "I mean, you are a bit."

"Didn't help that you weren't there when I woke up, which I also realized was my fault, so then I felt double the arsehole."

She dropped her head into her chest and giggled to herself. After that wild night of emotions she'd put herself through due to him, she was a bit pleased to know that he hadn't had the best time either. There was something comforting in that.

"Oh, but wait, there's more," he said, his embarrassment waning as he now seemed to be feeding off her amusement. "Want to hear what really did me in? What really made feel like a right fucking prat?"

She stared at him expectantly.

"Next day, after breakfast–I ran into Vanessa. She goes on and on about how sweet I am for taking her back and making sure she was alright. How I'm a stand up guy." He looked away and mumbled. "Such a good guy."

"Wow," she said, full on laughing now. "Woooooow."

"Why couldn't you have walked in five minutes earlier?"

"Had I come earlier, you wouldn't have come at all. What kind of friend would that make me?"

"Stop," he groaned as his cheeks actually reddened at that. He let the palms of his hands rub deeply into his eyes. He genuinely was embarrassed about this, which made it all the more funny to her. This was their rapport; this is where they belonged. She worked best when she could take some sort of imaginary highground over her friends and then take the piss.

The awkwardness from before had evaporated entirely. She could accept that night had merely been a weirdly emotional ride that was now behind them. It was time to bury all of those feelings and thoughts about him back where they belonged. He was none the wiser; nothing had to change.

"She has no idea, then?" Dominique asked, happily picking up her fork and stabbing a piece of waffle with it.

"Who? Vanessa?" He shook his head. "I'm not bloody well telling her. I've just been avoiding her."

"This place does make that easy to do," she said as she chewed. "And we leave soon."

"Not soon enough," he said, watching as the Slytherin girls were heading back in their direction with their food. "Hey, don't say anything, will you? You're the only one I'm telling," He made a head gesture to his right, where Zara and Erin had now set their stuff one seat down from the pair of them. Dominique nodded and didn't need to be told twice not to include those two in their conversation. It seemed that despite their new little friendship, the ties didn't run that deep.

"Weasley's alive," said Zara, who had sat on Jack's side of the table and was now smiling at her.

"And awake," added Erin, taking her seat beside Dominique. "We'd heard you'd apparently gone and died."

"Glad you were so concerned," Dominique muttered.

"He was," Zara said, gesturing to Jack. "He came in yesterday morning saying you weren't in your room and was asking everyone if they'd seen you."

Dominique looked at him, feeling a strange mixture of warmth at him being so concerned, but also annoyed because he didn't need to make a big deal out of it. Now people were going to ask questions that she didn't want to answer. He must have sensed something in her expression because he returned her stare with an unapologetic shrug. "There are some nutters running around here. I wanted to make sure you weren't dead in the woods."

"I told him not to worry unless you were still missing by lunch time," Zara said, picking up a piece of toast. "I figured you'd made a new friend and made an evening of it."

All three of them looked at her to confirm or deny that comment. If they thought she was going to have this conversation with them, they were sorely mistaken. Still, she knew her silence was telling and she'd have to say something. Maybe she should tell them she was off stuck in the woods with some nutter.

"I was dumb and stayed out all night," she said, ready to divert the conversation elsewhere. "I paid for it yesterday. I was so exhausted that I performed like complete shit. Sabatino even said so. I may have single-handedly destroyed everything I work for in a couple of hours."

Erin made a sympathetic sort of grunt as she sipped her tea, while Jack seemed to be studying her face for something she couldn't place. Zara looked skeptical. "How bad could you have been?"

"I was sick all over the pitch, which Sabatino cleaned up. I also spent every second I wasn't on a broom facedown in the grass."

Zara grimaced and Erin made the same sympathetic grunting noise once more. Jack's gaze travelled absently to the table, but he said nothing.

"And," she reached into her pocket and pulled out the yellow parchment that she'd found attached to her door that morning, "Because of that, I got dropped from the top group to the one below." She tossed it onto the table, which caused Jack to pick it up. "Look at the top. B group."

"Who cares about the groups today?" Erin said in an almost snippy way. "Today we get to actually play Quidditch and the As and Bs are all mixed together anyway."

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't have liked to stay in the A group and get the best ranking I can," Dominique said, watching as Jack reached into his own pocket and pulled out his own yellow sheet of parchment. He was holding them side by side, comparing them. Zara was also looking over his shoulder, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the two sheets.

"Did you finish your bookwork?" Erin asked, pointing to her workbook. "Two points for doing that. It's due this morning."

"Yes, I did," she said, suddenly being reminded of Jack cleaning up her book the day before. She lightly kicked him under the table to get his attention. "By the way, I know you put my book back together for me. Thanks for that. You saved me a lot of time this morning."

He threw her a quick smile, which she took to mean that it was no big deal, before he was back to comparing their papers.

Zara suddenly pointed at something on one of the sheets. "Erin, your first match is at eight on pitch three, right?" When she nodded, she added, "You and Weasley are scheduled for the same match. Doesn't say if you're on the same team or not. I guess we'll find that out when we get there."

The two exchanged glances, but didn't express any disdain or delight at the fact either way. Dominique hadn't thought much about the teams she'd be playing with, only that they would be different for each match. It made sense that in some instances she'd be playing with–and probably against–people she knew. She did take a small solace knowing she and Giggleswick would never be on the same team.

"You and I are scheduled on the same pitch at three o'clock," Jack said to her, finally placing her sheet back down on the table and sliding it back across to her. "That could be good."

Dominique made a face. "If we're on the same team it will be. I don't want to play against you."

"I hope you have to, because then you can see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of one of his Bludgers," Erin said, throwing Jack a cold stare. "You got me on the side once and I had that bruise for three weeks."

He stared at her, though he didn't seem to agree with that. "I've gotten you more than once."

"I don't keep track, but that time really stuck with me." She stabbed a piece of fruit on her plate. "That bruise was grotesque."

"He got me twice back to back last year," Zara muttered, also throwing Jack an equally derisive look. "Hurt like hell and I was ready to shove your bloody bat up your arse, but–" She smiled. "We still crushed Gryffindor, so I can't complain too much."

Jack opened his mouth to comment, but didn't get the chance since a voice from nearby suddenly cut him off with, "No shit-talking Gryffindor." It was Durrin, and he looked as if he was passing by on his way to get food. He'd clearly stopped to say hello and was now grinning at the table of them.

Zara smiled at him. "But it's just so easy to do since you left, Durrin."

"Aw, Zara, don't ever change," he said in his ever cheerful sort of way, though his eyes settled on Dominique. His smile suddenly changed; it felt more specific. She had assumed that he was feeling some way about the way they'd left things, what with her storming off and being upset about the captain conversation. Now that she was sober, it seemed rather dumb to revisit. She'd already had enough apologies for one morning, so she hoped he didn't–

"Heard you had fun the other night."

Her face fell. Oh shit. That. He was smiling because of that. That made a lot more sense.

"Don't make that face," he said, taking a step toward the food. "We've all done it. No shame in it. He said he had a lot of fun. Had a lot of good things to say about you." He paused. "I mean, as a person, not about the...well, you know. I'm not being inappropriate, I swear." He laughed. "Anyway, you made it to practice, then? I must have gotten back to my room right after you left because I heard you'd bolted out the door."

"I...did," she mumbled, finally letting herself glance around the rest of the table. Erin and Zara were exchanging curious, but clearly entertained looks while Jack's eyes just kept darting between Durrin and her.

"Glad to hear it," he said, chancing a look around the room. "Who knew this many people woke up this early? I was good last night and stayed in. A bunch of us all finished the bookwork to get those two extra points since it's pretty much all that's separating us from being down in the bottom group." He yawned before glancing back at them. "Anyway, any of you in C group?"

No one answered, though Erin and Jack shook their heads.

"Then I won't be seeing any of you out there today. C group tends to play itself since there are so many of us. But best of luck to you. Enjoy those rankings."

There was a murmur of "thanks" and "you too" as Durrin set off to walk away. He'd already gotten to the next table before Zara suddenly shouted after him. "Hey, Durrin. Who's your roommate?"

"Stu Reynolds," he called back over his shoulder.

Dominique's breath caught in her chest. Fucking fuck. Zara's head had practically spun off her neck at the speed she turned to look at her. Erin's jaw dropped and she was uttering the words, "Ohhhhhh shit," at barely above a whisper. Jack sat there with wide eyes, his expression more gobsmacked than anything else.

"Are. You. Serious?" Zara asked, her tone practically euphoric. If she knew then the whole school would know. The whole camp would know. She'd probably get home and somehow her parents would even know. There was no stopping information once Zara Zabini got a hold of it.

"I'm not talking about this."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"I'm not talking about this."

"She totally did," Erin said. "You can see it in her face."

"How can you NOT talk about this?" Zara practically spat. "It's Stuart fucking Reynolds. He's a sexgod. If I'd had sex with Stuart Reynolds, I get badges made and hand them out to people!"

"I thought you hated him?" asked Jack.

"You don't have to fancy someone to have sex with them," Erin offered. "Hate sex is a thing."

"I never hated him, I just thought he was annoy–" Dominique stopped. She pinched her lips together and took a deep breath. "I'm not talking about this."

Zara was staring at her, mouth gaping and eyes wide. "I'm so jealous." She looked back at Erin. "I saw him here just the other day and he is still a fox." She smiled. "Just looking at him reminded me of when I was absolutely obsessed with him."

"You and everyone else," Jack muttered, checking his watch. As he did so, he made to stand. "I need to go if I want to fit in my run." He threw them all a lazy wave, his gaze landing briefly on Dominique.

"See you at three," she said, suddenly feeling awkward again. She'd lost her imaginary highground.

"Yeah, see you then," he said, making his way toward the exit and disappearing a moment later. She'd watched him walk all the way until he was completely gone.

"Cool," Zara said, leaning forward on the table. "Now that he's gone, how about you give us some details? Please tell me it was good. He's always looked like a great kisser and I swear there's a correlation between good kissers and great sex."

Dominique stared at her.

"I refuse to stop asking you unless you give me something. I'm incredibly persistent."

"She really is," Erin agreed. "Resistance is futile."

Dominique found this all quite odd. She had never once been the envy of anyone when it came to this sort of thing, so part of her wanted to have this moment. Why not? Be that girl for a minute. This place was making everyone do things they wouldn't normally; she might as well play along. She finally begrudged a smile. "It was fucking fantastic."

Zara seemed elated, but Erin made a face. "Compared to who? Davies? Is that hard?"

She was immediately shushed by Zara, who hastily snapped, "Can you be nice, for once?"


	15. Privileged

After finally escaping Zara's endless questions about her night with Stuart, Dominique had walked over to the main reception building with her workbook in hand. There she was met by a small queue of others looking to turn in their books, and wizards in the red robes shuffling around attempting to stay organized. She was asked her position and told to hand her book to the wizard at the end. It was a simple drop off, nothing more. As soon as the book had left her hand, she knew she'd at least scored a two. It couldn't go any lower than that.

She set off back toward the dorm to collect her broom, knowing that she had to report to pitch two by a quarter to eight. The sun was up now and the sky was crystal blue–a gorgeous day. It wasn't particularly warm yet, though the heat of the day was coming. That excited her. She was ready to work up a sweat and make up for yesterday. She was ready to show off what she could do in an actual match scenario.

As she emerged from the dorm with her broom in hand, she ran into Jack walking in. He was eating a sandwich of some kind; most likely on his way to retrieve his own broom and bat for the start of the day. She held the door for him, and he'd almost walked straight past her without notice until she bopped him on the shoulder with her broom handle. He swung around, startled, but grinned when he saw her.

"Good run?" she asked.

He hummed as if to say yes, his mouth otherwise full. Once he swallowed, he said, "Feel like it went too long, though. I'm behind."

"Don't let me keep you," she said. "Good luck today."

"You too," he said as he headed off in the opposite direction. She then heard him suddenly call out, "Hey, wait."

She turned back, stepping out of the doorway since people were trying to get by. Jack had doubled back to her and was now holding out his fist for her to bump. "Don't fuck it up."

A slow smile crawled across her face. Those were their famous last words to each other before any match. It felt a little out of place outside of the context of Gryffindor Quidditch and the two not playing together, but she raised her fist and bumped his nonetheless. She needed all the good energy she could get today. "Don't fuck it up."

He turned away, calling over his shoulder, "You're going to crush it today. Forget about all that other stuff. Best Seeker in the world. Remember that."

She smiled as she watched him go, but quickly shook him off and remembered she needed to focus. This was important. She needed to get in her proper pre-match headspace. Luckily, today she'd given herself plenty of time to arrive at her pitch so she had the time to center herself on the walk out there.

There were people spread out everywhere today, not all headed in the same general direction. Each pitch had matches scheduled every hour; if a match ran longer than an hour–which meant essentially the Snitch hadn't been caught in that time–it would be called. Only the Seekers would really suffer from that rule, so Dominique knew she had to make the best with the hour she was given. Get the Snitch in under an hour. That's all she had to do.

She had four matches that day. At eight, eleven, one, and three. By five o'clock, the rankings would be posted and, depending on what she received, she would be scheduled into certain matches the following day. Those were the important matches as they would run much longer and feel more like a proper Quidditch match with no calling or stoppage.

Her performance in all of these matches would affect the scheduling for the final day of play. On the final day, you either weren't scheduled–and free to leave–or you were scheduled in the final Premier match to give the scouts one last look at you. This was essentially a showcase of the best talent to come out of the week, and getting into that match–as a Seeker–meant you had to be the top two in the camp. It was probably out of the realm of possibility for her given that she'd already mucked everything up, but she could still hope.

At pitch six, a handful of people were milling around and going through their own various pre-match rituals. Some were stretching; others mounting their brooms and warming themselves up. Dominique didn't see Erin yet, but did notice her direct competition in Gabriel sitting off to the side in green robes, stretching his legs. She was clearly in Group B now, but she decided to look at that as an advantage. She may have gotten knocked down here, but she was better than Gabriel and she knew it. She had to use this opportunity to shine and show the scouts and coaches that she was Group A talent who had simply screwed up. There was no time to waste.

"And what's your name?" asked a woman in a red robe who had snuck up beside her while she mentally destroyed Gabriel in her mind.

"Weasley," she said. "Dominique Weasley."

The woman checked the list she had in front of her before reaching into a nearby box and pulling out a blue robe. "You're on the blue team."

Dominique mustered a polite smile as she took the robe, though she did have to admit she felt a little dirty at the sight of the robes that were nearly identical to Ravenclaw's Quidditch uniforms. She didn't have a great association with Quidditch and the color blue, but she wasn't going to let that bother her. If she was being tested, then so be it. She could be Ravenclaw blue all day and still kill it.

Erin appeared not long after and was also handed a blue robe. She, even more than Dominique, seemed a little disappointed, considering she probably would have felt a lot more at home in the green competitor's robes.

"Can we just agree the blue looks like shit on the both of us?" she asked as she approached Dominique. She was already pulling the robes on over her clothes.

Dominique smirked. "Looks like we're teammates."

"It truly is the end of days," she said, letting her broom drop to the ground as she too began stretching. "We've got a decent group of Chasers." She gestured over to where a man in his early twenties and a girl that looked to be their age were going about their own routine. "The bloke is wicked accurate, just not particularly fast. The girl is rather good. She's out of Beauxbatons. She was in my group all week."

"I'm better than their Seeker," Dominique said without hesitation.

"So modest."

She shrugged. "I know I am. He got bumped down to the B group on day one."

"So?" Erin said, "I did too. Maybe he had a bad day."

Dominique stared at her. Erin was a great Chaser–she couldn't even argue that–but she hadn't known that she'd been dropped down. It was obvious now, considering they were sitting there in the same match, which evidently was for B group athletes. But she had a hard time seeing why. Dominique wouldn't admit it, but she'd argue that Erin was probably the best Chaser currently at Hogwarts. "You got dropped down on day one?"

"I was off my game," she muttered. "Haven't quite caught up. But as I told you at breakfast, it doesn't matter. There were maybe fifteen Chasers in the A group by week's end yesterday and they can't just keep playing each other. They need B people to fill in–I know this because Zara and I have a noon match together. I can only hope that she and I get on the same team because then people will see what I can really do."

"Zara's still in A?"

"Yeah," she said with the slightest trace of bitterness. "She's done well this week."

That first match ended up being quick, though Dominique liked to believe it was because she had the upper hand on Gabriel from the start. She could remember his weaker areas from the one day they'd practiced together and she'd immediately taken advantage of them in order to allow her to snatch the Snitch more readily.

It had been an easy and rather boring victory; she hadn't even needed to keep close tabs on the rest of the match since Erin had been right–they'd gotten a decent set of Chasers who were out flying and scoring the green team's lot two to one. Even Erin was having a solid match; looking much like her familiar self out there. They both were clearly driven to shake off the B group labels they'd unfortunately acquired.

"Well done," Dominique had said to Erin as soon as they'd landed, both sweating. "You had to have scored at least a hundred on your own."

"I could have done better," Erin said as she caught her breath, but she nodded in an appreciative manner. "But thanks. Good catch out there. I don't even think the other Seeker was anywhere near you. He may have been sleeping."

"Told you I was better."

"Don't get cocky, Weasley," she said, smirking a little as she turned to go and return her blue robe back to the officials. Dominique had followed suit, and they'd both wished each other luck in the rest of their matches that day before splitting into separate directions.

As easy as that first match had been, she still felt accomplished. If her other two matches were that easy, then she was set to have a stellar day. She could only hope to go four for four with Snitch catches since she needed all the help she could in order to undo the damages from the day before. A perfect day–she needed a perfect day. She needed to take the extra time she now had before her next match and focus her energy on performing to the absolute best of her abilities. She needed to sit, stretch, drink some water, tend to her broom and really get inside–

"Seems as if you're feeling better."

The voice had come walking up from behind her on the path. When she stopped to look, Sabatino was already passing; clearly on his way somewhere. He did slow down to cast her a lingering look.

She'd been slightly startled that he was speaking to her–or showing any sort of concern for her. She was almost too shocked to answer, but finally managed to mumble, "I am. Yesterday was...unfortunate. But it wasn't me."

"But it was you," he said blankly.

"It wasn't reflective of what I'm capable of."

He laughed a little to himself. "Of course. Everyone thinks that. If we're being honest, I'm not sure that what you're capable of is worth much." He gestured around to the various pitches, some of which had matches in progress. "You see, catching a few Snitches over some equally average opponents today won't make up for the fact that I know this isn't what you're cut out for."

She stared at him. Beg your pardon? What the hell was he even…? Who had asked…? She looked away to hide how hard she was trying to not react to that comment; only to look back after finally finding the words. "I'm sorry? You don't know anything about me."

"I know exactly who you are," he said, turning to face her head on now. "I've played against people like you my entire life. The ones who come from a place of privilege–"

"A place of privilege?" she sputtered. "I did not. No more than most of the people here."

"Is your last name not Weasley?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know that name carries a lot of weight where you're from."

She again stared at him for a long moment. "Yes, but that's...I'm not...That is to say, not all the Weasleys are...My parents are not famous."

"It still would have allowed you famous connections," he continued. "Lynch says your aunt used to play professionally. And that she's a very well known Quidditch reporter–"

"She's only well known because she's married to one of the most famous men in the wizarding world."

He smirked at her as if she'd just made his point for him. "Can you look me in the eye right now and tell me that your famous uncle or your well-connected aunt has never exposed you to Quidditch in a way the average witch or wizard wouldn't have been privileged to experience?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but immediately shut it. She knew where he was attempting to go with this, but she still didn't understand what the hell this had to do with her abilities on the pitch. Yes, her aunt had taken her to matches her entire life and gifted her nice equipment. Yes, she'd gotten to meet famous athletes and visit famous arenas. She'd been fortunate enough to have those opportunities, but none of that mattered. None of that was out there on her broom getting the job done. She'd done that. Her.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with how I play or what I'm capable of," she finally said.

"It puts ideas in your head," he continued. "You've grown up around Quidditch and grand Quidditch resources. You've probably had your aunt and her connections telling you your entire life about how you have potential, perhaps even how good they think you are. If you hear it enough, you start to believe it. You'll believe it so much that while you may have a modicum of skill, you're convinced you can ride that to the professional level and be fine. I'm here to tell you that you can't. You're not that good."

She looked away from him, torn between so many different reactions. Her blood was boiling. She didn't know whether to laugh, to cry, or to curse him where he stood. Was this conversation even happening?

"I haven't seen you making any extra effort–and I see people here waking at dawn to put in time on the pitch," Sabatino continued. "I see them on strict diets and routines; I see them working out in all their free time. I see them with a broom in hand at every possible free moment. I see them sacrificing everything in order to get to the next level." He stared at her. "They don't have the luxury of calling upon famous relatives to push them forward once they've–"

"I've never once called upon my famous–"

"They know better than to waste an opportunity like this by going out all night and getting fucked up," he snapped back, not letting her finish. "You're distracted and you lack commitment. All I see when I look at you is a kid who was told she was talented by important people and now thinks that's all it takes. I see it every season with rookies in the league, but you know what? Those people burn out quickly and find out this isn't for them. It's a fucking lifestyle, not a hobby."

"I know that!" she said, finding herself frozen to the spot. She had no idea what else to say. What could she say? She wanted to curse him out, but if she did, she'd tank what little ranking he apparently thought she deserved. What had she'd done to make him have this much disdain for her? Why did he have it out for her so badly?

He looked as if he was done speaking and had turned to walk away. "Don't take it personally. I'm trying to save you some time."

Don't take it personally? Was he fucking serious? He'd essentially attempted to stomp her dream all over the pavement and was telling her not to take it personally? He could fuck right off. She so badly wanted to tell him that, but she instead gripped her broom harder than she'd never gripped it in her life. "Do you think anyone is cut out for this? You seemed to think we were all rubbish. Nothing was good enough!"

He didn't seem to entirely disagree with that. "It's a weak fucking year, but one of the invitations–the girl–has legitimate potential if she puts in the work. The other one is too large to be a Seeker. He'll be an alternate somewhere before getting dropped after a season or two. And then there's the little British one. You know him, I'm sure."

She legitimately flinched. Giggleswick? He could not be serious. They were the same skill level and she knew that. She knew it! There was no way he could tell her he was a better fit.

"He needs a lot of fucking work," he muttered. "A lot. But there's a fire there that you can't learn. He wants it more than you do. He understands the sacrifice. He's got the edge."

She actually laughed at that, though not in an amused way. That was hilarious. She was done with this arsehole. "Fine, then I'm just going to ask. What ranking do you think I deserve? What number do I–and my well-connected family–get from you?"

"A three," he said without hesitation. "I'll be scoring you a three."

"I am _not _a three," she said. "I know I'm better than a bloody three. It was one bad practice! A stupid practice where I knew I'd fucked up! And I think it's bollocks that you think one bad day should define who I am."

He shrugged in an unbothered sort of way. "My entire job is to judge you for the days you're here. One bad day does define you. One bad day in this sport can define the rest of your career."

"And no one knows that better than you," she said, glaring at him. "What was your excuse? You go out drinking the night before the World Cup? Or did you simply crumble under the pressure?"

He smirked a little, again looking as if she'd proven his point for him. "As I said, people don't forget one bad day. I wasn't given a pass. Why should I give anyone else one? Why do you deserve one?"

She stared at him. She'd never bitten her tongue so hard in her life to keep her from saying what she'd wanted to say. She may very well be making it bleed.

"I'm not here to blow smoke up your arse," he said. "I'm here to tell you the truth. And if I'm an arsehole, so be it."

"Yeah, you seem to enjoy it."

He shrugged. "No, but I do enjoy playing professional Quidditch, which is something I can actually say. Can you?" He threw her a look before turning and heading off down the path.

Rage. That was all she felt–unadulterated rage. She actually felt herself starting to shake. He may have done it; pushed her to a point of anger that she'd never felt before. Giggleswick on his best day couldn't have made her this angry. The only thing keeping her from flying off the handle was the fact that she loved this sport so much that she wasn't willing to risk her future in it any further by hexing that fucker. She turned and suddenly kicked the gated fence that was separating the path from the nearest playing pitch.

Her second and third matches ended up being a complete blur. It was as if she was operating under some sort of trance; an anger induced haze that only had one setting–to destroy everyone and everything. She'd never met the Seekers in either match before, but the girl in match two seemed scattered brain and lacked any real focus, which made her a ridiculously easy target. She kept watching the Chasers instead of seeking out the Snitch, so it allowed Dominique to catch it on its first appearance. No one had even had the chance to build up a sweat.

In her third match, the bloke she was up against stalked her almost too closely, though if he got too much closer, she was going to reach out and flip his broom. Like an idiot, he was entirely too focused on her instead of watching the Snitch, and again she was allowed to get the jump on him in almost every instance. The match went almost the full hour, but only because the Snitch barely appeared. Once it did, she ended it easily.

Not a single person watching her could deny that she hadn't given it her all out there, but it now had nothing to do with wanting to prove she wasn't supposed to be in B group. All she wanted to do was show Sabatino that he was wrong. He'd never been more wrong. No one had ever been more wrong in their life.

At two thirty, she found her way to pitch five for her final match of the day. Her anger from the morning had dissipated slightly, though not so much that she still wasn't entirely focused on destroying the poor sap she'd be Seeking against. She was also reassured by the fact that she knew Jack was due on this pitch for this match, and if she could count on him to have her back, then this match was already over. They'd crush everyone.

The IQA wizard in the red robes was standing directly at the entryway checking people's names. He gave her a quick once over before asking in a brusque manner, "Name?"

"Dominique Weasley," she said without any politeness–she'd had no time for it today. The wizard checked his list before essentially thrusting a robe into her hand, which she took and observed was green this time.

She walked inside and tossed her broom and robes down to the ground to immediately begin stretching after her hour long break. She sat and placed her legs in V shape, then reached forward as far as she could in an attempt to stretch her back out. She let her forehead rest on the grass as she pushed herself down, letting herself stay in the position for as long as she could handle. She felt herself drift into a comfortable lull that she could have probably stayed in for awhile, but she was suddenly startled when someone dropped–what felt like–a blanket on top of her.

She peeled it off as she dug herself out from underneath, noticing that it was in fact a blue robe and not a blanket. She didn't even have to look up to know who the owner was; she let her disappointment and annoyance show before even confirming it. "Are you serious?"

"Seems like it," Jack said, letting himself lie down beside her on the grass. He was sweaty and looking as if he'd come directly from another match. He proceeded to look over at her, his arm shielding the sun from his eyes.

"Fuck," she mumbled, now feeling especially annoyed. She didn't think it was possibly to be more angry today than she already was, but the world found a way.

"I'll try not to hit you too hard."

"Thanks," she muttered.

"How's your day been?"

"Shit."

"What? Why?" he asked, sounding concerned. "Have you not been catching anything?"

"Oh, I've caught everything," she said, glancing over at him and watching as his expression immediately looked confused. "I'm three for three and I've won every match."

"Then why…?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," she said, reaching up to stretch her arms. "I need to focus so that I can win this last one and go four for four."

He'd closed his eyes as if he was now basking in the sunlight in a leisurely sort of way. "Well, I hope you do."

"You're on the other team."

He laughed a little. "I don't care if we win or lose, so long as I do my job. Here's hoping whatever Chasers I get stuck with run the score up so high that when the Snitch appears, I don't even have to attempt to hit a Bludger at you."

That ultimately would be the most ideal scenario. If the score was lopsided enough that her team would still lose whether she caught the Snitch or not, then he was right. He wouldn't even have to try and stop her. It would only be in the event of a close score or her team winning where she'd have to worry she'd be on the receiving end of one of his Bludgers. And she knew better than anyone how accurate Jack's aim was when he had time to get the jump on a Bludger.

She turned to look at what Chasers had already shown up to gauge whether they'd be capable or running the score up. She didn't recognize any of the ones who were standing around doing their warm ups. On the contrary, she did recognize the Seeker who'd just arrived and was handed a blue robe to match Jack's. Her face fell.

Jack pulled himself up into a sitting position. "I'll leave you alone so you can focus. I need to warm up my arm anyway. If I rest it too long, it's going to get cold and I can't–"

"Fuck."

His head whipped around on her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your Seeker's here." She made a nodding gesture toward the pitch's entrance, where Giggleswick had just entered. Jack, just as she had, let his face fall in a horrified sort of way.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me." He turned to look back at her. "This is a joke."

"Not a very funny one," she muttered. If anyone could screw with her day up, it was Griffin Giggleswick. Yes, she was perfectly capable of beating him, but she also was perfectly capable of losing to him. This was not how she wanted to end her day.

Giggleswick glanced over in their direction, noticing the pair of them sitting there. He didn't react one way or the other, but he'd always had a good poker face when he wanted to. Looking indifferent was his specialty, even when he was probably cooking some plan up in his head. Little did he know that given her mood, she was not to be messed with; even if she did have to play against Jack.

Jack stood and threw Dominique a look. "Well, this will be fun." He reached down and grabbed his bat and immediately started swinging it back and forth around his torso. "Good luck."

"Yeah, you too," she said, watching as he walked off, still stretching his batting arms back and forth. She focused back on her stretching. Time to get her game face on and take a few minutes to get inside her head. It was Giggleswick. She knew Giggleswick. She'd had him figured out since fourth year. Problem was, he'd done the same. But it was time to focus on the times she'd beaten him.

When her team gathered for a brief team meeting; Dominique realized that she'd gotten a really terrific group. She could tell by the way they were addressing one another, the terminology they were using, and the strategies they were trying to incorporate. The three Chasers seemed to know each other, at least casually, and the Keeper seemed incredibly confident in his abilities.

The Beaters were apparently good friends and had played together before. They were already analyzing the other team's Chasers when Dominique caught the larger one's–the one she'd dubbed Tree Trunks since his arms were that large–eye. He beckoned for her to come over. "You know anything about their Seeker?"

"Too much. What do you want to know?"

"Anything that might help us run him down faster."

She gave both of them the best rundown she could when it came to Giggleswick's habits and mannerisms, and watched as they both–particularly Tree Trunks–seemed to hang on every word she was speaking. They clearly took this seriously and wanted every advantage they could get, which included doing their research on the opposing team. When she was done, they both started planning a strategy, though not before Tree Trunks added, "They've got solid Beaters on their end you need to keep an eye on. The dark-haired one is faster than the Beaters you're probably used to and can run you down if you're after a Snitch. The other one is ambidextrous and had serious bat skills. He can get you from either side, so beware his backhand."

Dominique turned to glance over to where Jack and another Beater were currently having their own pre-match discussion. She'd known the second Tree Trunks had mentioned ambidextrous that he was talking about Jack, who was left-handed but had taught himself to use both. Apparently, he'd made enough of an impression on some of his fellow Beaters to make them feel the need to give her warning. She nodded at both of them, playing a bit dumb. "Right. I've heard the ambidextrous one's really good."

Tree Trunks shrugged. "Yeah, but don't worry." He smiled, showing off that he was missing a couple of teeth. "I'm much better."

She let herself feign reassurance at that–her smile pinched–right as the whistle blew. It was time for both teams to walk to the center of the pitch and greet the other team. Immediately, it was strange to see Jack standing across that line with Giggleswick alongside him. It was as if she'd stepped into a different, upside down reality as her team stepped up to theirs to exchange preliminary, pre-match handshakes.

Jack threw her a smile and she returned it before she turned her attention to Giggleswick. Each position was to shake the hand of its mirrored position on the other side, though she and Giggleswick were the only two to hesitate. Once they did, there were no pleasantries exchanged and certainly no good lucks. The handshake was quick and to the point. They'd let go as soon as they could.

Jack had shaken both Beaters' hands before reaching over and, rather obviously, offering his hand out to her. "Good luck," he said with a goofy sort of smile, as if the formality of this part was silly to him. When she took it to shake, he tugged her toward him, and added. "And don't fuck it up."

"I was actually thinking that you _should_ fuck it up. Less that I have to worry about out there."

"Dominique," he said, almost sharply. He'd also called her by her actual name, which he never did. "No. Stop. This is tradition. You cannot–"

She smiled and laughed–her first smile since before talking to Sabatino–as she turned to walk away. She knew full well that Jack was full of pre-match tics and routines that set him off if he didn't follow through with all of them. She called over her shoulder. "You're too superstitious!"

"I will Bludger you!" he called after her. "It will hurt!"

"Then don't fuck it up!"

"That counts!"

"Nutter," she said, laughing to herself as she mounted her broom with the sound of the whistle. The next whistle would signal the Quaffle's release.

It was a fast paced match with everyone being at top skill level–except for perhaps Tree Trunks, who really was head and shoulders above everyone else as a Beater. The crack of his bat echoed across the pitch, and Dominique couldn't help but think the other team had some of the better Chasers in the camp if they were capable of dodging some of the Bludger he sent their way. It was hard to stand out against him, but as she watched Jack from her spot above the action, he was certainly holding his own. His backhand really was scarily accurate, and he'd managed a perfect hit on a Chaser who'd been charging the rings. It had caused the girl to drop the Quaffle rather awkwardly, which looked bad for her but terrific for Jack. That hit had been straight out of a textbook.

With no Snitch in sight for the first half of the match, she found herself lazily watching Giggleswick–who was lazily watching her. The advantages of playing each other were that they could let their guards down ever so slightly since she knew his tells. Unfortunately, he knew hers, so her strategy at this point was almost to become a different kind of Seeker–which was easier said than done. She also knew that if she did that, she risked losing it all due to playing against her strengths. If she stuck to her strengths, she risked Giggleswick taking advantage of four years worth of time spent studying her.

It had taken thirty-five minutes, but the Snitch finally appeared at mid pitch; hovering about five feet above the ground and fluttering around in a small circle. She wasted no time darted toward it, knowing that if Giggleswick had spotted it even seconds before she had, he'd have an advantage. She wasn't even sure where he was at the moment–she'd been watching Jack–and was now scolding herself for letting him get out of her sight.

The wind was flying past her as she began to close in; coming in on a wide dive at the fastest speed she could for that angle. She was so close now–it was meters away– and she was already reaching her arm out before a loud smacking noise gave her a small start. She thought she'd gotten hit–things were moving so fast–but there was no pain and her broom was still on its trajectory. Too close for comfort as it may have been, she couldn't afford to look back. She had to keep her eye on the Snitch that was now just out of reach.

She was all alone. Where was Giggleswick? Was she really going to be unchallenged? Was she actually going to simply reach out and grab that little golden ball that was now inches from her fingertips without any push back?

Apparently so, because she wrapped her hand around it and immediately felt its curved surface in the palm of her hand. With an instinctive motion, she pulled herself up to avoid colliding with the ground, but then just as quickly found herself gripping onto her broom for dear life as a Bludger with alarming speed came racing past her face.

She could practically feel the texture of the Bludger as it grazed her chin. It had startled her so badly that she recoiled and lost grip of her broom, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. It had luckily only been a short fall–maybe three or four feet, but it had caused her to have the wind knocked out of her and left her panting. She tried to catch her breath as she laid flat on her back, staring up at the blue, cloudless sky. Had that Bludger hit her in the head, she would probably have had a concussion right now.

A loud whistle sounded to signify the match was now over. For the briefest of moments, Dominique wondered who had come up with the Snitch before realizing she still had it in her hand. She looked down and opened her palm to let the Snitch roll out onto the ground, forcing herself to prop herself up on her elbows now that she'd caught her breath. She'd done it. She'd ended the match.

The rest of the team had begun landing around her, all cheerful and lauding their performances as well as their win. Two of her team's Chasers rushed over to greet her and congratulate her. "Great catch," one said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "Nice work keeping hold of the Snitch until the whistle blew."

"Thanks," she mumbled, getting to her feet. "Where'd the other Seeker go? I had no challenge."

"This guy got their Seeker," said the female Chaser of the group, who was now pointing at Tree Trunks. "Kill shot, really. Their Seeker was right on your tail and he managed to nail him in the back. Looked painful."

"My Bludgers always are," said Tree Trunks without a trace of modesty. His Beating partner was laughing while patting him on the back in a celebratory manner.

Dominique smiled a little. Giggleswick had been taken out. She glanced around the pitch in search of him but he didn't turn up. Perhaps he'd gotten hurt and they'd ushered him away to the medic. Or maybe he was embarrassed and walked off under his own volition. She didn't know or care. She'd beaten him. She'd gotten the better of him today.

"You almost got a nasty little Bludger to the head yourself," said the other Beater, gesturing to her head before looking at Tree Trunks. "That's your fault. You were supposed to be covering the left side."

"I was distracted taking out their Seeker," said Tree Trunks. "Maybe pick up some slack, Gunnar. I can't do everything."

"I was tailing a Chaser..."

The two began going back and forth as to whose fault it had been, but Dominique had already tuned them both out once she'd heard them talk about the left side. It had come from the left side? She knew exactly who always covered the left side.

She pulled away from the group, already seeing that the blue team had dispersed into their own directions and were peeling off their heavy robes and equipment. Jack had done the same and was actually pulling his shirt up from the bottom to use it to wipe his sweaty face. But no matter how nice she found the sight of his sweaty, bare torso, she was now too angry to enjoy it. She walked straight over to where he was standing with his back to her, talking to the other Beater, and letting his bat dangle lazily at his side. Without hesitation, she plucked it out of his hand and caused him to round on her.

She pointed his bat at him as if it were a sword. "Give me one reason to not bludgeon you with this? One reason!"

"Nic, I had to try," he said, backing up a bit, but not looking particularly scared. He actually seemed amused. He was somewhere in between laughing out right and knowing that if he did that, she may very well swing on him.

"You almost took my bloody head off!"

The other Beater who was standing there seemed a bit alarmed and looked as if he should do something, but Jack quickly waved him off. "She's my friend."

"Some friend! Friends don't try to take each other's heads off!"

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them as much as he could. He still found himself a bat length away since she hadn't bothered to lower it. "If I wanted to take your head off, I would have taken your head off."

"If I had so much as sneezed, it would have connected with me."

"I accounted for that," he said earnestly. "I mean, not sneezing exactly, but when I hit it I made sure there was a really wide berth. It wasn't going to hit you."

"I don't think you realize how close it came," she said through gritted teeth, poking him hard in the chest with the bat.

"I had to try," he said, reaching out to take his bat back. She didn't resist and let him have it, though she rolled her eyes as he did. "Once your Beater got Giggleswick, I had a clear shot of you. You were going to win the match. If I sat there on my broom, everyone watching is going to wonder what was wrong with me."

"There are so many other ways to come after me without coming this–" she held up her index finger and thumb centimeters apart from each other and put them right in his face, "–close to giving me a concussion."

"I wanted it to look real. If it was anyone but you, I would have hit them."

She felt her jaw clench and looked away. If what he was saying was true, he'd probably could have knocked well off her broom and she'd have missed the Snitch. The match would still be going on and she'd be out. "Well, I hope you're not looking for a thank you. You're not getting one."

"I'm fine with that," he said. "Great catch, though. That makes you four for four. And you beat Giggleswick."

"Yeah," she muttered, glancing around the pitch. "Where is he anyway?"

"Probably with the medic since he got pummeled," he said, his face stoney. "The bloke that hit him is an absolute beast. Invitation from Durmstrang. He dominated the Beaters group and I'd be shocked if he didn't get a perfect ranking."

"Glad I had him on my side, then," she said, looking back at him. He threw her a silly smile in an attempt to get on her good side again, but she wasn't having it. He may be cute, but he wasn't that cute. "You're still an arsehole."

"That's alright," he said. "Once you calm down and decide not to kill me, the Quidditch player in you will see I did what I had to do."

"If you actually did what you had to do, then I'd have a concussion right now and the match would still be going on. You don't need you to take mercy on me. I don't need special..." she hesitated, "privileges."

"So wait, now you're giving me shit for not hitting you?" He laughed. "Call it what you want, but I'm not going to break you–the Seeker I need next season–for a stupid scrimmage match. Let me get a deduction." He shrugged. "I've been playing really well the last few days, I can afford it."

She took a deep breath as she turned to leave the pitch, Jack on her heels. "If you're that bloody accurate all the sudden then why aren't you taking out Giggleswick every time we play Ravenclaw? You know how easy that would make things?"

"Because you can handle Giggles on your own. Plus, at school, I'm usually busy handling all of their Chasers on my own. Tommy's well and good, but when it's me and him I'm spread a little thin. Out here with people who know what they're doing, it gives me more time to pay attention to everything else going on."

She was silent for a moment as they exited through the gate. Once the two of them emerged back onto the path and proceeded to walk in the direction of the Square, she glanced over at him. "You played really well."

He smiled in a modest sort of way. "_You_ played really well. I could have done better. I was distracted." And before she could ask by what, he added, "Yes, by you. After four years of defending someone and knowing their movements around the pitch, I had to keep reminding myself that I'm supposed to be after you—all while defending the other Seeker who I've spent the last four years attempting to blast off his broom. It's an adjustment."

"I honestly thought you did fantastic," she said. "If that was a shit match for you, then I'd like to see your better ones."

He grinned at her, though he quickly changed the subject as they approached the center of camp. "Rankings are out in less than an hour. Moment of truth."

She sighed as a feeling of dread swept over her; Sabatino's words began playing in her head once more. "I ran into Sabatino after one of my earlier matches. We had a chat."

"What's that mean?"

"He seems to think I deserve a three. Which, with the bookwork, puts me at a five—if I'm lucky."

She then gave him a quick recap of she and Sabatino's entire discussion as they approached the auditorium, where people were milling around in the Square waiting for the doors to open and rankings to be made available. Jack suddenly stopped in his tracks to gawk at her. He'd almost seemed at a loss for words—until he finally found some.

"Fuck. Him."

She shrugged him off. "He's apparently got me all figured out."

"No, Nic, seriously. Fuck him. He doesn't know anything about you. He's making a load of assumptions based on…" He looked angry as he shook his head. "I want to go and curse him."

"I wouldn't stop you."

"Who is he other than some arsehole who cost his team the World Cup? Seriously?"

"I mean, he's an arsehole, but it doesn't change that he's one of the best Seekers in the sport right now."

"I don't care," he reiterated. "He's one Seeker. One idiot. Fuck him. There's absolutely no way you're a three. You were incredible out there. If you played half as well in your other matches as you did there, there is absolutely no way he can justify giving you a three. Fuck him."

She smiled at him, always appreciative of how he really could be counted on to have her back whether on the pitch or not. "I told him I knew I was better than that, even after he told me one bad performance can define your legacy."

"Well, he would fucking know, wouldn't he?"

"I may have actually said that to him. Asked him if he'd been drunk the night before the World Cup and what his excuse was for fucking everything up."

He smirked as if he was happy to hear that, though his smile quickly slipped off as he said. "Wait, did you actually?"

"I mean, if he's going to give me a three, I'm going to give him a proper reason."


	16. Rankings

At five o'clock exactly, Dominique walked through the doors to the Seeker's room and saw nothing more than one long table with five wizards in red robes sitting behind it. The rankings were now available, and a crowd of fellow Seekers had gathered to immediately push forward. Someone in an official capacity announced that everyone needed to queue up in front of the wizard who had the first letter of their last name posted.

With that information, she walked straight to the end of the table; the forever advantage of her last name being at the end of the alphabet was that she was always in the last group and she never had to search. She found herself behind three other people, all of whom were handed a folded sheet of parchment and sent on their way. Once it was her turn, she gave the wizard her name and he immediately tapped the stack with his wand, causing one of the pieces of parchment to emerge from the pile. It floated into her hands and she took it, stepping aside as soon as she did.

She stared at it as she walked off to the side of the room, knowing that all of the answers she sought were currently inside. On the outside was her name, birthdate, and position written in perfectly legible script. Also included was a red stamp of the IQA and the words, "Student Athlete."

Everyone around her was tearing into their documents. Many were silently reading theirs over, and others let out cries of annoyance or disappointment. Some people were swearing–Dominique definitely heard a few 'fucks'–and a very small number had exclaimed happily. This was it. It was now or never.

As she slowly broke the seal that was binding the parchment together, she cast a look around the group once more–now seeing Giggleswick on the perimeter of the room reading over his. He evidently hadn't had to receive too much medical attention if he was standing there, though his face wasn't particularly happy or upset. He was reading silently; his expression one of complete concentration. She immediately remembered what Sabatino had said about giving him the edge, which she had to assume meant receiving a decent rank. If his reaction was one of stunned silence, that didn't bode well for her.

With a heavy breath, she opened the paper. On it were plenty of notes and scores. She noticed at least five different kinds of handwriting and words such as "potential" and "focus" stood out to her at first glance. One comment, in the messiest script of them all, blatantly said, "_Does not possess the drive to make it at the next leve_l," and she knew right away for whom the worst handwriting belonged to.

The main draw on the entire sheet was a large number sitting inside of a box in the upper right hand corner. Her ranking. A number seven stared back at her in such a bold way that it was almost as if she'd never seen the number. She stared at it, slightly confused. She had been under the impression she was doomed to something lower, but here the seven was. That surely wasn't Sabatino's doing. Someone else must have given her the benefit of the doubt.

She scanned the page for individual evaluations, quickly reading over the note that stated: _The scores are based on an eight point scale, with one being the lowest performance score and eight being the highest. Two points will be given upon completion of the assigned bookwork–for a maximum score of ten points_.

She found her first feedback in the Fundamentals section. Lynch had given her a six, and had mostly complimentary things to say about her. She had expected that, and despite Sabatino's claims of nepotism and family connections now coming back to her, she ignored it. She'd earned that six. Under Diving and Maneuvering, Abreu had given her a seven, which was...that was fantastic. Her feedback seemed encouraging and even gave her praise for some of her riskier attempts. She was urged to continue practicing throughout the course of her final year at school.

In Accuracy, Ahlgren had given her a four, which, while disappointing, was not entirely unexpected. She'd done well enough on day one, but her performance with him after her long night out was abysmal. In Teamwork and Strategy, Wagner had given her a six, which she felt was fair enough. Both of their comments were full of constructive criticism, but she'd have to weed through that later.

Lastly, at the bottom, in an awful script that was barely legible, Sabatino had reported a four. She blinked a few times as she looked at it. Four? Four wasn't a three. He'd point blank said he was giving her a three, but that was clearly a four. An entire extra point better off than he'd promised her. She let that sink in, wondering what could have possibly changed in the hours since she spoke to him.

She quickly scanned down to the bottom, where her performance scores from today's matches had been logged. The algorithm for which they had tabulated her score seemed a little more complicated than what the coaches had logged, but it seemed she'd scored a five out of a possible six.

She grinned ear to ear at that. Five out of six wasn't perfect, but it was pretty close. At the bottom of that page there was quite a bit of maths and score tabulations averaging everything together. She'd achieved a score of five, plus two points for her bookwork, and that had given her a seven. A respectable–albeit, nothing special–seven.

But it could have been so much worse. She felt as if she'd salvaged that seven from the wreckage. It stung a bit knowing that scouts and team representatives tended to gear their attention toward eights and up, but she had an entire year at Hogwarts to get better and show off her skills.

"Ooooh, a seven's good," came Annabelle's voice. She had somehow silently positioned herself to look over Dominique's shoulder, which startled her into folding her paper up. "Way better than me."

"What'd you get?"

"A five," she said, shrugging. "Just enough to keep me out of the bottom. I never actually expect to do much better. I've always been a five. Even when I was at school and back when I still played regularly." She smiled in a reassuring way.

Dominique looked back down at her parchment. "I expected lower. Sabatino had it out for me."

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "He gave me a two. No one in the C group got higher than a two from what I've seen. Didn't even get any feedback, but that's expected at my level. Even if he did have it out for you, there are still so many other factors that make up your ranking. One coach can only do so much damage."

"I see that now," she said, observing as Annabelle took a few steps toward the exit. Her body language was urging Dominique to follow.

"A seven for a Seeker isn't the end of the world," Annabelle continued as she led them out. "They may actually plug you into some top matches tomorrow depending on how the field looks. Now, if you were a Chaser and got a seven, I'd tell you to give it up. There are at least twenty to thirty people out there who have scored eight and above. But with Seekers, you may only have two or three people who scored in the top. We're a smaller group with high standards."

She immediately cheered up at the thought of that. "Is there anyway to know if I got one of the higher scores?"

Annabelle smiled. "How did I know you'd ask? Come on. Follow me." She gestured for her to come along as she led her out and toward the courtyard, adding along the way, "I actually kind of hate when the rankings come out because it essentially defines you for the next two days."

"What do you mean?"

"The top scorers, those nines and tens–not that there are many tens–but they walk around as if they're Merlin's gift to Quidditch. Some would wear their ranking around on a badge if they could. And the higher they're ranked, the more special they get treated. Some of them can get so high and mighty. It's obnoxious. You know how it is."

She nodded, even though she didn't know how it was. "How do people even know what anyone else got?"

"That's where I'm taking you" Annabelle said, quickening her pace across the courtyard and looking as if she was headed toward the Square. "Oh, and just so you know, tonight will be a great time if you feel like going out. The one through fours all have to leave camp by tomorrow, and they go out with an absolute bang. D Dorm will be insane. People are out celebrating their scores–or crying and looking to drink it all away. It's the best night. You should come by."

She didn't respond to that. Now that she'd barely scraped by with a seven, she wasn't sure going out all night before some of her pivotal exhibition matches was a good idea. She'd made that mistake once and was lucky to have a seven to show for it. She was better than that seven and wanted people to know that.

"Stu will be around," Annabelle added. "Though, I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He said the two of you had a good time, but maybe you didn't."

"We did," she said. "It was a lot of fun." She laughed a little. "More than I expected. But I'm...I don't know if–

"I get it," Annabelle said. "Sometimes it's better to just leave things as they were." She pointed up ahead to where a large, floating board now hovered outside the commissary. "See that?"

Dominique did see it. There were four panels to the board, each labeled by position in ornate lettering. First was Beaters, then Chasers, Keepers, and Seekers. On them were names–everyone's names–and rankings. It was the entire Trial's rankings for everyone to see.

"That's the ranking board," Annabelle said as they came upon it. "It appears as soon as everyone's got theirs. You can check anyone in the whole place. It's why the high and mighty can now look down on the lessers because your business is now everyone's."

She led Dominique down the length of it, stopping in front of the Keeper's board and immediately reading it over. It was five feet long, at least, and floating in place as if suspended by a hovering charm. Underneath the word Keeper was everyone's name positioned alphabetically. There were at least a hundred, with numbers all resting directly beside each name.

"Durrin got a five," Annabelle said, staring up at it. Dominique followed her gaze, where 'Adams, Durrin' was the very first name listed. "He'll be ok with that. He got a six his first year here, so it's a drop, but a five doesn't change much."

Dominique searched the rest of the list for names she recognized. She saw a few familiar names she could remember from Hogwarts, but only really stopped to take in Michael Ellison. He'd also gotten a five. She distinctly remembered Durrin being a better Keeper than Michael ever was, but a year off and nights spent partying probably slowed your skills. Like Annabelle, Durrin seemed more here for the good time than anything real these days.

She walked down to her right, stopping in front of the Seeker board and seeing that new people were appearing to check out the rankings just as she was. As with the Keepers, all the names were positioned in an orderly, alphabetical fashion. She caught her name toward the bottom; a seven staring right back at her, but moved on to the rest of the list to see who'd gotten better than her.

There were several fours and below, though most of the list was composed of fives and sixes. She saw a nine and immediately recognized it belonging to Valentina, the Beauxbatons' invitation. She scanned it to find Jere, the Durmstrang invitation, with an eight by his name. The name Adrien Poe caught her attention, and she wondered whether that was 'Adrien the Awful' from Beauxbatons. The three by his name certainly made her think so.

She let her eyes go to the middle of the board, scanning each letter until she found G. She stopped and stared at Giggleswick's name, where a seven also resided beside it. He'd beaten her out in practice, but her performances that day must have outshined his. They were tied—just as their stats so often were at school. Sabatino's words hung over her at that moment—"_He's got the edge on you." _It seemed not everyone thought so.

Annabelle had walked down to the Chasers, which was arguably the largest board of the bunch with hundreds of names listed. The print was so much smaller that Annabelle had stepped as close as she could to read it.

"Oh, my friend Toddy got a seven," she said absently once Dominique had wandered over. "He'll be thrilled. He was sitting at six for four years."

Dominique's eyes travelled immediately to the bottom of the list where the very last name, Zabini, Zahara, posted an eight beside it. She'd got an eight and was now elevated to the upper levels of this place; where she probably felt most at home. Oddly enough, Dominique felt no jealousy toward her. She was a great Chaser and deserved it. Her head would probably grow a bit, but she couldn't claim hers wouldn't have had she achieved that kind of score.

"Stu got a five," Annabelle said, pointing her wand in the direction of his name. "He got a six his first year." She shrugged. "That's what happens when life gets in the way and you just don't have the time to practice as much as you'd like. Having the time to play is half the battle."

Dominique was still reading. Ansel Baileymoore got a five. Not surprising. Ellibit Collins also got a five. That seemed generous. She scanned the list for Erin Tanner, and blinked a bit when she saw a seven sitting beside her name. Zara got an eight and Erin got a seven? That didn't seem right, but Erin herself had admitted to not being on top of her game. She could sympathize with that. It would make for an interesting conversation between the two best friends now that they were separated into entirely different skill levels for the next year, despite having always been on par with each other in the past. She wondered how that would play out.

"Anyone else you want to see?" Annabelle asked, looking up and down and noticing that the crowds were turning up to read over the boards.

Dominique looked up at the last and final board, the Beaters. She nodded at Annabelle while attempting to wedge between two people discussing Beater scores and taking up far too much space. "I'd like to see the Beaters quickly."

"Who are we looking for?" Annabelle asked, her eyes now looking up as well.

"Jack. His last name is Ians."

She heard her say, "Ah, of course," in a tone that was almost sing-song. "Can't forget about him."

She wanted to throw her a silencing look, but she instead chose to ignore her and focus on searching the middle of the board for the letter I. She'd just made it to H when Annabelle said, "Well, shit. Good for him."

Dominique attempted to follow her line of sight, but Annabelle had already pointed at the list, having found the name almost dead center on the board. There it was: 'Ians, Jack'—a nine sitting beside it.

"Are you serious?!" Dominique shouted, taking a step closer to make sure she was seeing this correctly. "He got a nine!?"

"He's an elite now," Annabelle said. "Might as well say your goodbyes. He'll forget you exist in a few hours."

Dominique stared at his name, utterly gobsmacked. Jack had gotten a nine? Her Jack? A nine!? A fucking nine?! She knew he was good, but a nine meant that this could actually turn into something. It could be a career. Higher ups in Quidditch were watching him–and if they weren't, they would be now.

"Hey, blondie down in front! Mind stepping back so the rest of us can have a look?" called a voice. Dominique ignored it, instead still marveling at the number nine. It was Annabelle who grabbed her by the shirtsleeve and tugged her off to the side to clear the path for others. Had she not, she might have stood there staring for who knows how long.

"I can't believe he got a nine," she said, now finding herself involuntarily smiling from ear to ear. Was she jealous? Absolutely. Positively. There was no question. But she was also so incredibly happy for him; all she wanted to do was run and find him. She wanted to congratulate him. She wanted to see him.

"That's remarkable," Annabelle said. "He was always nice, so I'm happy for him. Here's hoping he doesn't become one of those big-headed prats who acts as if their shit doesn't stink." She glanced toward the commissary, where people were all filing in to get food after receiving their scores. "Want to get some food?"

"I do, but I need to find Jack. It's just…"

She smirked a little. "I get it. You should be one of the first people to congratulate him."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"You should. You should talk to him about a few things."

"No," Dominique said, shutting her down immediately. "This isn't about that. It's about him having his moment. Let's not confuse things."

She continued to smirk, but merely shrugged. "Your choice. Just know that nine's tend to get a lot of attention around here." Her expression turned obvious. "From all sorts of well-wishers. But go. Go find him. And if you plan on going out tonight to celebrate, you know where to find me."

She nodded as she took a deep breath and turned away; already giving the crowd a quick once. There was no sign of him going to get food, so she began to double back toward the auditorium, knowing full well that he probably had long left, but perhaps she'd catch him on the way. She didn't even realize until she'd made it over there in record time that she was walking at an incredibly fast pace.

Everywhere she looked, people were pouring in different directions. Some off to get food, others heading back toward the dorms, many sitting around the courtyard and having a chat. She figured that if she couldn't find him by the auditorium, the dorms would be her next guess. She could hang out in the common area until he came through.

"Hey, Weasley," called a voice, and she noticed Ellibit and Michael walking hand in hand in her direction. It was Michael who had spoken up. "How'd you fare?"

"Seven," she said, and even though she was well aware of their scores, she still asked, "And you?"

"Fives for both of us," Michael said as the two passed without stopping. "Well done."

"Thanks," she said, feeling a little more comfortable in her score with every passing second. Sure, it wasn't a bloody nine, but a seven wasn't anything to be upset by. Not when there were people going home for far less. "You two haven't seen Jack, have you?"

"He was outside the dorms talking to some people a few minutes ago," Ellibit called behind her, both still walking toward the center of camp. "I'd assume he's still there."

Dominique looked up the path, taking to it and working against a current of bodies all passing by her in the opposite direction. It seemed everyone was headed to get something to eat or assemble in the Square to talk, and here she was headed against them; dodging people from knocking into her. She jogged for a bit, swerving and avoiding people before finally reaching the path that led directly to Dorm A. Someone had propped the door open with a stone and she passed through into an immediately crowded common area.

It shouldn't have surprised her that her dorm would be the one with the most action, considering most of its residents were either receiving scores for the first time or celebrating the ones they'd received as returning invitations. The room was filled with laughter and smiles. There was a celebratory vibe radiating from within, despite a few angry faces and some tears. As she stood searching the room for Jack, she heard someone slam something into a wall, followed by a loud crash. When she turned to look, Tree Trunks looked irate. His friend–his Beating partner from the match earlier–looked to be talking him off a ledge along with a small group of others.

"Heard he didn't do his bookwork," said a familiar voice, and when she turned, Giggleswick was standing there, watching the display as well. "Got an eight. Had he done the work–"

"He would have gotten a perfect score," Dominique muttered.

Giggleswick shrugged. "Personally, I'm happy to see it. Fucker nearly broke my back. They gave me potions for the pain. And let me tell you, the shit they give you here is better than what they give you at Hogwarts." He blinked a few times in a very spaced out sort of way.

Well, that explained why he was talking to her. He was probably too loopy to realize that they didn't normally chat.

He looked back at her. "I got a seven. I played like shit today and only got two of my four Snitches."

"I played really well today, but I got a seven as well."

"Yeah, well you fucked up in practice."

"I did."

There were no congratulations or well wishes or much else to say on the matter. They both just silently stood there as their attentions remained on Tree Trunks across the room who was now rambling and yelling something about "fucking paperwork."

"Always the bloody same," Giggleswick finally muttered, walking away without another word. She watched him go, feeling as if that had been–without question–the most pleasant conversation the two of them had ever had. It only took multiple pain killing potions and a potential broken back to get there after six years. She laughed a little, thinking how strange this place was. It almost wasn't real how different things were around here.

She walked a little further inside, past Tree Trunks, and watched people for any signs of Jack. She was close enough to her room now that she may as well run in to change; she made her way to the corridor only to find people crowding it as well. She could barely move in this place as she made her way down the hallway, suddenly running into Erin who was headed in the opposite direction.

"Good score?" Erin asked.

"Seven."

"Same."

"Have you seen Jack?"

Erin pointed behind her, back down toward where their rooms would have been. "In his room last I saw. Did you hear what he got?"

"Yeah, I did. What a prat." She smiled as she spoke, the crowd now thinning out a bit as she finally made it down toward her room, where a boy roughly her age was standing just outside. He looked like a Beater–it was as if a plague of Beaters had infested this place—and was talking to someone just inside the room. Given that no one else should be inside her room other than Jack, she sure as hell hoped it was him.

The boy outside of her room turned and acknowledged her first, noticing that she was fast approaching where he was standing. He smiled at her immediately, as if he was suddenly pleasantly surprised by the new visitor. "Well, hello."

She stopped in front of him. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm the person whose room this is," she said, pointing to the open door. "So...move."

In that very next second, Jack's head poked around the doorframe from the inside, his expression happy to see her. He'd immediately started grinning. "Nic! You'll never–"

"You got a bloody nine!" she screamed, her giant grin from earlier returning as she pushed past the random stranger standing there. Then, out of nowhere, she did something that even surprised her–she threw her arms around Jack's neck and hugged him. It had been an instinctual move–one that was completely out of character for her– so much so that Jack was taken aback, both literally and figuratively. She actually knocked him back off his feet, forcing him to topple somewhat backward and let his bed break his fall.

He was dirty and smelled like he'd been out in the sun on a broom all day and it was honestly everything she could have asked for someone to smell like. It took her a moment–now that she was lying on top of him–to realize that her reaction may have been a bit much. She awkwardly let her eyes meet his, though he just smiled and said. "Hi there."

She had thought of a handful of things to say to him on the way over, a bunch of ways to congratulate him, but all that came out now that she was here was, "I hate you so much."

He continued to grin, though she noticed he wasn't exactly struggling to get her off. It wasn't until she realized that she'd been lying on top of him for what was an unnecessarily long amount of time that she pulled herself up. The random bloke from before was still standing in the corridor watching them. He smiled. "Hi, I'm Diego."

"Yeah, sorry," Jack said, now sitting up. "That's Diego. He and I have been working together this week. He got a nine, too. Diego, this is Nic–er, Dominique."

He reached out to shake Dominique's hand. "Nice to meet you." He looked back at Jack. "You never mentioned you have a girlfriend."

"We're just friends," the both said in a mixed unison.

Diego's face perked up at that, his smile growing a little wider. "Oh, well, in that case–Hi, I'm Diego. You're very pretty."

She made a face before immediately turning that look onto Jack. He needed to collect his friend or else she would. She was not in the mood.

"Alright," he said, shrugging it all off with a quick, "I'm going to have a chat with her now, so we'll catch up later." He stood to put his hand on the door, looking as if he were about to shut it.

"Ok, but don't forget about the meeting in an hour," Diego managed to get in before Jack shut the door on him.

"What is with your kind?" she asked, shaking her head. "Why are Beaters all the same?"

"It's because most are morons," he said as he sat back down on his bed and began searching through a stack of paperwork that had been placed there. "It's as if the second they see a beautiful girl, what little brain they have shuts down and they can't focus."

She watched him as he absently started flipped page after page over, clearly looking for something in particular. He hadn't even realized what he'd just said; it had just come out of him so nonchalantly. She'd caught it though and was now obsessively focusing on the fact that he'd used the word beautiful in reference to her.

"He's an amazing Beater, though," he added, now smiling at her as he set his papers aside after finding the one he'd been looking for. "Alright, let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"What'd you get?"

She blinked. "Who cares what I got? You got a nine."

"I care," he said, though his expression turned curious. "Wait, how did you even find out my ranking?"

"There's a giant board with everyone's scores on it down in the Square. Everyone's rankings are everyone else's business."

"Oh, that seems…" He trailed off, clearly not amused by that idea. "So, are you going to tell me yours or make me walk down there to see it?"

She hesitated. She'd much rather focus on his amazing score than her slightly above average one. It didn't seem particularly impressive when faced with his. "Seven."

His face lit up. "Seven's fantastic! You thought you were getting a five."

She shrugged. "I guess Sabatino's scores could only do so much damage."

"Or he's an idiot and everyone else can see that you're an amazing Seeker."

"Amazing would have scored me a nine," she said, throwing him a lazy smile. "Seriously Jack, when did you get so good? I mean, I knew you were good, but this…" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're getting an invitation back next year. You're in the best possible position right now."

His humble nature was evidently taking over because he shrugged and averted his eyes to the pile of parchment again. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Yeah, but I have a whole season to fuck it up." He smiled as if that was a lame attempt at a joke, but she didn't bite.

"You won't. You played this well against people as good as you are. Back at Hogwarts, who can even touch you?"

He took a deep breath, looking a little awkward under her gaze. "I guess we'll be having more scouts than normal out at school now. That's good for you, too. They'll see you in action as well."

She mustered a smile. It was true. Even without the high score, scouts would make an appearance to scope out potential talent. With Jack being ranked as high as he was, specific scouts were now going to be frequently turning up to watch him and keep tabs on him. Perhaps she could make that work for her as well.

"I've got meetings with them," he said, reaching over to grab at the pile of parchment. "They want to talk to me tonight. There are more set up for after my matches tomorrow. They're from teams all across the continent. I have no idea what they're going to ask me."

"Sounds like they're vetting you," she said, taking the top sheet of parchment off the stack and glancing it over–though barely reading it before handing it back. "They're already starting to try and woo you to consider their teams."

He laughed a little. "I can't be thinking about that. I've got another year of school. I've got N.E.W.T.s to worry about."

She smiled a little sadly. Not because she was sad, but because for the first time since hearing his news, she was truly envious of his situation. "Maybe you can worry a little less about them now."

"Don't put that in my head," he mumbled. "I'm one injury or suspension or shitty season away from none of this mattering and leaving me in the dust."

She nodded. "No, you're right. I'm getting ahead of myself." She forced herself to cheer up. "But we really should celebrate. You got a nine."

"Yeah, we absolutely should," he said. "But I think I'm pretty booked up tonight. They told me to go shower and change, get something to eat, and be back there by 6:30. I get the impression it might be awhile."

"Ok. Tomorrow then. Or whenever you're free. I know you're at an elite level now, but here's hoping you don't forget about us little people down here."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop that."

"The ones that helped you get to where you are," she joked. "The people who have always had your back."

"Nic, I couldn't forget about you if I tried. And there have been times I've tried."

She smiled. "Good. That means I've done something right."


	17. Champagne

Dominique never did see Jack return that night, but when she had woken the following morning, his bed looked to have been slept in. He'd apparently gotten in late and left first thing. She didn't know how he had the work ethic to constantly be on the go despite being so worn down; then again, had that not been exactly what Sabatino had said to her? That she lacked the drive and the commitment to put in the extra work? Perhaps if she did, she'd be a nine as well.

Even without Jack around, the previous evening hadn't been a total bust. She'd somehow found herself visiting the common area and sitting with Erin, Michael, and Ellibit. With Zara off in the same meetings Jack was presumably attending, Erin seemed as put-out as Dominique had without their usual go-tos around. Michael had suggested they play cards, which turned into a two hour tournament of sorts that—much to her surprise—had been rather fun.

The night ended when Erin said she had plans to visit her Slytherin friend in C Dorm, though she did invite everyone else along. Michael and Ellibit decided to go, but Dominique declined. She would never admit it to them, but given the now slim chance that she could still make it into the Premier Match—even as an alternate—she wanted to perform to the best of her abilities in her final matches the following day. If that meant calling it an early night and behaving herself, then so be it.

She'd also discovered—upon waking and going about her morning routine the following day— that Annabelle had been startlingly correct when she'd claimed the rankings changed everything. The atmosphere had definitely shifted in A Dorm; one couldn't walk through the corridors, or common area, or the toilets, without hearing people asking the now constant question: "What did you get?"

Factions had started to break off; people with higher scores were grouping together and talking about their meetings with important people and match-ups scheduled for the day. People with mid-range scores were either talking about how they deserved to be higher or how they couldn't believe they'd done so well. The low scores didn't talk much about anything, which made them easy to pick out.

Dominique's day had been very similar to the day before—only she now played in two matches instead of four. These were full matches; not the hour long trials. She understood going forward that these matches could go for minutes or hours—depending on how the Snitch fell—though she'd had a feeling they were constructed in order to test endurance and longevity.

She'd caught her morning Snitch and played well against the girl from Durmstrang that she'd been in practices with, but in the afternoon, she'd faced Valentina Ricci. She was the highest ranked Seeker in camp, and it showed when she quickly beat her after getting a lucky break when the Snitch appeared within yards of her. It had come up near her. She'd caught it easily, dealing Dominique her only loss of the Trials.

She was disappointed since she knew a good showing would have boded well for her for the Premier match, but she tried to remind herself that her chances had already been slim. Both of the invitation Seekers had ranked higher and were the obvious choices; not to mention, she was still tied with Giggleswick for any possible alternate positions. She'd beaten him in a head to head, so it was possible that she was the front runner, but she'd learned over the years she could never count out Griffin Giggleswick.

He'd recovered from his previous day's injuries and apparently returned with a vengeance today—reportedly crushing his first match in an impressive showing before then also coming within inches of beating Jere, the invitation, in shootout. His showmanship was fresher in people's minds, whereas both of her performances had been basic. It was hard to say what would happen. By day's end, she was either finished with her Trials experience or waiting for the news that they would ask her to participate the following day.

She wasn't sure how people even knew if they were playing in the Premier match. She assumed it had something to do with all those meeting the elites kept taking; that they were probably widdling them down to their final numbers at that moment. The fact that she hadn't heard anything was probably more telling than she wanted to believe, but as she sat in her dorm room the evening before the final match, she still held out hope.

Jack was probably in one of those meetings; sitting there listening to it all. Zara, too. Were they being chosen? Or passed over for one of the other high ranking individuals? Perhaps they were getting an alternate spot? She really should have asked Durrin and Annabelle about the process when she'd seen them at dinner earlier, but they seemed to be done talking Quidditch. Instead, they were trying to entice her back over to C Dorm for one last hurrah.

She'd almost said yes once she started to realize that her chances at being picked as an alternate were dwindling with each passing minute, but she'd ultimately told them she wasn't interested.

"This isn't about Stu, is it?" Annabelle had asked as they finished their meal. "You're not trying to avoid him, are you?"

"Should I be?" Dominique asked.

"No," Annabelle said while Durrin shook his head. "I know it was a one time thing, but—" She looked at Durrin, "Durrin got the impression that—"

"I just don't think it'd take a lot of convincing to make it a two night thing if she was interested," he said. "But she's not. She fancies someone else."

Annabelle stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"Because I told him," Dominique said. "Remember how you were supposed to help me keep my mouth shut? Be my bodyguard? Keep people away from me when I was word-vomiting my deep, dark secrets that night?"

Annabelle looked a little red in the face. "That sounds like something I would have said. Shit, I'm such a fuck up. I'm sorry." Beside her. Durrin's expression didn't look the least bit surprised by her lack of follow through on something she'd promised.

Dominique had gone back to the dorm after that. She'd passed Erin, Ellibit, and Michael playing cards in the common area, but they'd been sitting with Giggleswick and Baileymoore this time. She was immediately put off by them being there and—while she may have been able to get past the the other three—there was nothing about this place that was going to make her spend her free time with Giggleswick. Erin had spotted her and attempted to flag her over, but Dominique did nothing more than nod and head straight to her room.

She was hoping Jack would turn up. She hadn't even seen him since the day before and she'd been hoping they could have their first real chat since finding out their rankings. That was apparently nothing more than wishful thinking since she sat there for ages, flipping through an old copy of Quidditch Weekly without a sign of him. She began to grow so bored that she actually considered going to check if Giggleswick had gone and whether she could go and play cards. As luck would have it though, a distraction appeared in the form of rapid fire knocking on her door.

A wide-eyed Ellibit and a rather amused looking Erin were standing there once she'd opened it. Ellibit didn't wait to be invited in; instead she crossed the threshold before rounding onto her with a rather loud. "You had sex with Stuart Reynolds?!"

Dominique blinked a few times before turning her tired gaze onto Erin. In turn, she shrugged in a bored manner. "Oh, please. News like that doesn't stay secret."

"Is it true?!" Ellibit asked. "Did you actually?"

"I mean, I did. But how did this even come up? Why are you two talking about me?"

"Because you had sex with Stuart Reynolds!" Ellibit yelled, as if this was an acceptable answer.

"Everyone was talking about some of the wilder things they'd heard while here," Erin said. "And since you've clearly got one of the better stories, it came out." She shrugged again. "Don't act as if you wouldn't have said something if it were someone else."

Even though that was probably true, she wasn't going to admit that. She took a deep breath before realizing that Erin had said 'everyone'. "Wait, who else did you tell?"

"The usual lot," Erin said. "Her. Mike. The Ravenclaws."

Ellibit made a gesture to raise her hand for some odd reason, as if they were sitting in class. "Can I ask you a question?"

"No," Dominique said before looking back over at Erin. "So," she closed her eyes tightly, "the Ravenclaws know?"

"Yes?" Erin said, sounding completely unfazed. "But who cares? Think of it this way. It's a good thing Giggles found out."

Dominique continued to keep her eyes shut, fighting the urge to tell Erin that she'd probably just said the stupidest things she'd ever heard. The idea of Giggleswick knowing anything about her sex life actually repulsed her. It was bad enough when she'd been with Henry and he'd probably heard things from him. "How the fuck do you figure that?"

"Who's Giggleswick best mate in the whole wide world? Who deserves to have it thrown in his face that you not only went and got some while you were here, but you shagged one of the most fit boys to have gone to Hogwarts in the last few years?"

She opened her eyes at that. That was an interesting point. If Giggleswick knew, Henry would know. Henry would have to hear that she had sex with someone he not only knew through school and Quidditch, but also that someone was Stuart Reynolds. This was potentially an interesting development; she didn't hate this idea. She only wished she could somehow see his face when it happened.

"Out with the old and in with the new," Erin continued. "And _that's_ how you win a breakup." She glanced around the room. "Why are you hiding away in here anyway? Come out and sit with us."

"I'd rather have my bones regrown than spend my free time with Giggleswick."

Ellibit said, "He left," right as Erin added. "Gone off somewhere. Probably out for the night. He and Baileymoore were saying earlier that they met these girls and need to see them again and blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening because Baileymoore is the worst storyteller in the history of history."

"You two aren't going out tonight?" Dominiques asked.

They both shook their heads, though Ellibit spoke. "Mike's got some Firewhiskey, so we're staying in. Might as well have some fun since none of us are playing tomorrow."

"Yes, come and get fucked with us," Erin said. "If you don't want Firewhiskey, Zara was given a bottle of champagne and it's sitting in our room. We can go kill that while we ride out the last night in this bloody place."

Dominique looked away, though her thoughts immediately went to Giggleswick. He must be fairly convinced he wasn't being chosen as an alternate tomorrow if he was going out to meet girls. But if he wasn't picked, then she would have to be the one chosen. She wondered if the final roster had been set by now? It was nearly seven o'clock; it should have been. Wouldn't she have heard something? Why was she even holding onto hope for an alternate spot that was ultimately completely insignificant?

"Come on," Erin goaded.

"I can have one glass," she said slowly. One glass until she knew for sure.

Erin seemed pleased to hear it as she led the way out of the room and out into the corridor. She'd immediately turned right toward her room, while Ellibit turned left and said she'd join them in a minute. Dominique was the last out, though as she shut the door, she noticed two people passing Ellibit in the corridor and heading in their direction. It was Vanessa and Chloe, though Vanessa was already making eye contact with her and smiling in a friendly way. Chloe didn't react one way or the other.

"You coming, Weasley?" asked Erin, who was standing one door down and holding it open as if waiting for her to join her. She didn't respond since the French girls were drawing nearer; Vanessa now several steps ahead of her friend.

"Hi," said Vanessa, her smile friendly but awkward. "Dominique, right?"

She nodded, feeling as if they'd been introduced plenty now, so the questioning of it all was getting old. Her gaze drifted over to Chloe for several seconds—long enough that it made her look away—before looking back at Vanessa.

"Hi," Vanessa repeated. She seemed a little nervous. "I was coming by to…" She pointed to Dominique's room. "Is Jack around?"

"No, he's at a meeting. He's been busy lately."

Vanessa nodded in an absent sort of way, her eyes now on Dominique's door. "Right. I'd heard he received a great ranking." She paused for a long moment. "I was hoping to run into him. Congratulate him, I suppose."

"I'll tell him you stopped by," Dominique offered, already knowing full well she wouldn't. This entire thing was over and done with after tomorrow and she really didn't see the point in carrying it on. Perhaps Vanessa wanted a pen pal, but it was probably better to simply nip this in the bud. If Jack cared, he could go take care of this on his own; she didn't want any part of it.

Vanessa nodded, seeming a little disappointed. "Right. Thanks." She took a step to leave, but then stopped and looked back at Dominique. "Did he mention to you anything about...I don't know, something I did? Because I felt things were going well, but then I haven't heard from him."

She didn't really know what to say to that, but forced herself to simply be nice, "He's been really busy. I've barely seen him."

"He didn't say anything?"

A part of her wanted to really tell this poor girl to get a clue, but she really did seem very sweet. It wasn't her fault her friend was rubbish and had made things awkward. She should probably know the truth, but Dominique wasn't about to ruin a friendship that she had no investment in. It was none of her business and it really should stay that way.

But at the same time...

"Nope, hasn't said a thing," she said, putting on a tone of concern. "But you know, he was terribly embarrassed when I walked in on you two that night doing..._you know_. Maybe it was awkward for him. Hard to say." She looked directly in her eyes then. "I really am very sorry about that. I probably completely killed the mood."

Vanessa's brow furrowed in confusion. And while Dominique made a point not to look at Chloe, she very clearly fidgeted behind her friend.

"Sorry? Walked in on?"

"That was me, obviously," she continued. "The one who opened the door while you and Jack were busy—" She made an up and down gesture with her closed fist, very clearly indicating a blowjob. She laughed in a very put-on way, "Terribly embarrassing."

Chloe tugged on Vanessa's sleeve. "We should—?" but Vanessa pulled her arm away and was still staring at Dominique. "I'd had too much to drink that night. I went straight to bed. That wasn't me."

It was Dominique's turn to turn on her confused face, though hers was testing the range of her acting abilities. "But it was the night of that party. Who else could it have been?" She let her face fall in an over the top sort of way. "Oh, no. Maybe I shouldn't have said…? I mean, I just assumed…?"

Vanessa's face was cold now. She started nodding, though it was clear that was more of a tic than her actually agreeing with anything. "Right. Ok. Well, thanks." She turned and immediately brushed past her without another word, walking by Erin who was still standing in her doorway watching the entire scene. Chloe immediately went to follow after her, though Dominique side stepped her to block her path.

"Oh, wait," she said as her previously fake tone vanished entirely. "It's you I owe an apology to. Pretty shitty to get walked in on. Sorry about that."

Chloe stared at her. She didn't seem to know what to do or say.

"You're a rubbish friend," she continued, looking her straight in the eye. "But that's not my business. Here's hoping she figures that out for her own sake." With that, she stepped out of her way, allowing her to pass. Chloe dawdled for a second, but immediately walked off quickly and without a word, trailing after Vanessa.

Dominique turned and briefly watched her go before looking back at Erin, who was watching the whole display with great interest. "What was that about?"

She shrugged, not feeling as if the story was even worth retelling. "Nothing," she said, right as Ellibit had returned at that moment with a very large cup of Firewhiskey. Both Erin and Dominique stared at her, their expressions begging to ask what that was for.

"I don't like champagne," she said.

Inside of her room, Erin had pulled out a large magnum sized bottle of champagne that had been charmed to remain chilled. Zara had acquired it from one of her many new friends she'd made around here, and she and Erin had been planning on drinking it on their last night. Seeing as Zara was now off in meetings and being important, Erin seemed to believe that meant she'd forfeited her right to drink it.

"We can't take it home," Erin said, having found two cups and now generously pouring she and Dominique some. "She'd understand. She'd do the same thing."

Ellibit and Dominique took spots on Zara's unmade bed while Erin hopped onto her own and crossed her legs comfortably and began to drink. The chit-chat was idle at first—mostly about school, seventh-year expectations, people they knew, their impressions of camp. Ellibit apparently thought the Trials turned out exactly as expected, whereas it was clear Erin and Dominique were both disappointed in themselves. By the time they'd all drained their first drinks, the conversation grew a little more amusing now that Erin insisted on asking more personal questions.

"So, has Mike been your first...everything?"

Ellibit nodded. "First boyfriend, first kiss, first...everything."

"Fuck, that's boring," Erin muttered, now pouring her second cup. "What if you marry him? You'll never know what it's like to be with anyone else."

She smiled. "I'm ok with that. I love him."

Erin and Dominique exchanged looks of shared horror at the idea, but a part of Dominique respected that sort of commitment. She could never, ever imagine having only ever been with one person—which she could say now that she'd been with two—but if that was Ellibit's bag, then good for her.

"When did you two have sex the first time?" Erin asked her.

"Summer between fourth and fifth year. We waited a year and a half." She smiled. "It was lovely."

"I bet," Erin said, keeping her sarcasm mostly in check. "You two ever done it anywhere interesting?"

Ellbit shrugged. "We usually just go to his room."

"I'm a little jealous of people who live in the same house because it's that easy for you," Dominique muttered, now balancing her empty cup on the palm of her hand in an attempt to keep it from toppling. "When you mess around with someone in another house, you're forced to get creative."

"Such as?" Erin asked.

"Mostly the Quidditch arena," she said, still intensely watching her cup so that she didn't drop it. "The tunnels. Once in the bleachers, though that was awful and I don't recommend it. Never on the pitch, I've been asked that. I'd wait until after Ravenclaw's practices and he'd hang back. The equipment room was where we did it the first time. My first time."

Erin made a face. "You lost it to Davies? Seriously?"

"Did you know me to date around much before him? Who else would it have been?"

She seemed to acknowledge that was a fair point. "What did you see in him?"

She shrugged, moving the cup from her palm. Erin took the opportunity to stand and grab it and refill it then. She was about to protest—claim she'd only planned on one glass—but it was already too late. She was handing a full cup back to her.

"I know people like to shit on Davies, but he's not bad looking," Ellibit offered. "He could be obnoxious, but he was always nice to me. He and Mike were always friendly. I don't know, the way you all talk about him it's as if he's an undateable freak, but I never thought so."

"He's a wanker," Erin said, taking a long swig of her champagne. "Fuck him. I'll never see the appeal." She looked at Dominique. "I remember being really disappointed the day I heard you two were fucking around. I was convinced you were the only person who hated him more than I did."

"I don't know what to tell you." She sighed. "You're both right. He is an arsehole, no question, but he had his moments."

"At least you can move on now," Erin said, "And from what I've been told—"

The door opened just then, and although Dominique wanted to hear the end of that sentence, Zara's sudden presence had changed the entire mood of the room. She was standing there, looking as if she'd been out on the pitch all day. Her eyes immediately landed on the bottle of champagne before they flicked over to Erin.

"You're back early!" Erin said, smiling happily. "I thought you'd be out again all night doing your meetings."

Zara continued to stare at her, not looking amused, but also looking too tired to make a big deal out of it. "There better be some left for me."

"Plenty," Erin said, holding it up. "I'll get you some—"

"I'm going to take a shower first," she said, waving her off. "But seriously, save me some or I'll curse you all. I'm in no mood." She looked over at Dominique and Ellibit, smiling a bit. "Look at this little ladies' gathering. Could you have ever pictured this at school?"

There was a general murmur of agreement. Outside of Quidditch and the occasional classroom assignment where they may have been paired up, Dominique never associated with any of these people socially. This place had done something Hogwarts never could—make her enjoy the company of people she'd previously ignored at best, and actively disliked at worst.

"How'd you do today?" Erin asked as Zara was now stumbling through her bag for a change of clothes.

"Not good enough," she said, pulling out a shirt. "I didn't make the final match, not even as an alternate. They chose six starters and four alternates. I was apparently twelve. That's why I'm done early. I talked to a few representatives today, but left as soon as the final match meeting started. Obviously, it didn't apply to me."

"Rubbish," Ellibit said while Erin's face turned sympathetic. "But at least you got that close. I was probably three-hundredth."

"They chose alternates too, then?" Dominique asked, watching as Zara pulled the rest of her clothes out. "Did you happen to see what happened with the Seekers?"

Zara turned to look at her. She didn't have to say anything for Dominique to know that the news she had wasn't something she wanted to hear. It was written all over her face. "I thought maybe you'd already heard. Giggles got the alternate spot. He was going into the meeting as I was leaving."

Dominique stared at her. How in the…? What in the…? How was it even possible that Giggleswick got it over her? That didn't make any sense. She'd beaten him head to head. Sure, he'd apparently had a great showing today, but he'd played like shit yesterday—even he admitted to it. She'd played fantastic yesterday and caught just as many Snitches as he had today. How did he get it?

"The heads of each position got to choose," Zara said, now standing there holding her clothes. "I guess yours picked him."

The room was quiet; all eyes on her. She was still attempting to make any sense of this. "I don't see how. Lynch was really keen on me. Both times I worked with him, I did great. I know my stats were better than Giggleswick's. I beat him when we played."

"I don't know what to tell you," Zara said. "Although, I don't think the one up there when they made the alternate announcement was called Lynch. His name was something else. I remember him from the World Cup. The Italian one. The one that missed the Snitch—"

Her face immediately fell. "Sabatino?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I assumed he was the head of your position."

She couldn't be sure why she let it happen, but suddenly—and without much warning—Dominique let out a groan so loud that it completely startled everyone else in the room. Zara had jumped back, but was now taking a pillow off the end of her bed and thrusting it into Dominique's hand. She took it and screamed into it. This went on for a good thirty seconds.

"That fucker!" she finally yelled once she dropped the pillow. "That fucker!"

"Ok, let's calm down," Erin said. "Look, it's not as though Giggleswick's even going to play."

"Right," Zara agreed. "He's an alternate Seeker. The two starters will probably play every minute of that match and he'll never see a second on his broom. You know how rare it is that a Seeker gets replaced. Be happy that you don't have to go and get ready and sit on the bench the whole time."

"It's not as if scouts are going to be sitting there praising his bench sitting skills," Ellibit offered.

"That fucker," Dominique kept repeating.

Zara was snapping her fingers at Erin now, gesturing to the champagne. "Get her something to drink."

"I just did," she said, pointing to the cup in her hands. Zara reached over and pushed the cup toward her, urging her to drink it.

Dominique stared at it for a moment, realizing now that she obviously had nothing better to do tomorrow. Why the hell not? She took three very large gulps.

"Ok, well, I'll be back in a few," Zara said awkwardly, heading toward the door. "Again, you better save me some." She glanced back at Dominique, who was trying to glare a whole through the bottom of her cup. "Not sure you'd consider this good or bad news given your current mood, but Jack's starting tomorrow."

She blinked as if returning to reality; Jack's name had immediately snapped her back into the room. Ellibit and Erin were both now making comments about how that was terrific for him, though Dominique could only manage a slow sounding, "Is he?"

Zara nodded. "He was the third choice out of four Beaters."

She took an extremely deep breath. She was truly so happy for him and his hard work; he absolutely deserved it, but she was also too aggravated right now to do anything more than sit there mustering a forced smile while everyone stared at her. Zara didn't wait around a moment longer and left to shower after that; Erin and Ellibit sat in an awkward silence exchanging looks between themselves as they sipped their drinks.

"It's not fair," Dominique finally said. "All because some dickhead doesn't like me."

"Again," Ellibit said, "Giggleswick probably won't even see any playing time."

"It's not about the playing time, it's about getting chosen," she said. "I know I'm better than him."

"And I'm better than Zara," Erin said unapologetically, "but I played like shit while I was here, so…" She raised her cup as if to salute her. "Fuck it all. It doesn't matter now. Best I can do is kill it this season and try again next year."

"I didn't play like shit though," Dominique muttered. "I practiced like shit for one day, but I played well."

"Look, I understand you're upset," Erin continued, "but if you're going to sit here and sulk all night because you didn't get some bloody alternate spot that no one even fucking cares about anyway, then I can't deal with you."

Dominique looked over at her. She was this close to standing and walking out of the room. How easy it would be to go back to her room and properly sulk for awhile—and then do it all over again when Jack inevitably returned with the good news that he'd be playing in the Premier match tomorrow. But she didn't. Erin was right. It didn't matter now. Her being upset about this literally changed nothing. She pulled her cup up to her lips and gulped half of it down.

"Let's talk about something else," Ellibit offered, glancing at Dominique. "I still have questions about Stuart Reynolds."

Of course she did. Dominique sighed, fully prepared to unload every possible answer to every possible question Ellibit could have asked. "He was just as good as you'd want him to be. The sex was fantastic. His penis was average and he knows how to use it. He's a very good kisser. Right to business. No weird kinks or third nipples or anything out of the ordinary." She turned to her. "Does that cover it?"

Ellibit blushed a little, immediately returning to her drink, only to realize there was nothing left. She said something about going to get more and excused herself out into the corridor. After she'd gone, Dominique and Erin sat around making forced small talk until a damp looking Zara returned with a towel around her head. Erin's expression begged the question that her shower had been awfully quick.

"I don't trust you to not drink up _my_ champagne," she said, taking a cup that Erin had already poured for her. As she sat, she asked, "So what are we talking about? Still on about the stupid alternate thing?"

"No, we've thankfully moved on," Erin said, throwing Dominique a look before glancing back at Zara. "I feel as if I haven't seen you in ages."

"The last two days have been a blur," Zara said as Dominique felt her insides and face suddenly warming the more champagne she drank. "I'm honestly happy to be done with it. Happy to be done talking to people. Now I can relax and enjoy what little time is left." She turned to look at Erin. "Are we going out tonight? Did you go out last night?"

Erin shook her head. "I'm tired of going out, so I'm staying in and getting pissed here. But I did go out last night."

"Where? With who?" Zara looked over at Dominique, who simply shook her head as if to say it wasn't her.

"The Hufflepuffs and I went over to C Dorm, but we split up pretty quickly," Erin said, now pouring her third large glass of champagne. "I went and hung out with Felicity."

Zara groaned. "Of course you did. I leave you alone for one fucking night and you go crawling back—"

"We only got high," she snapped. "I didn't do anything else! I was good."

Zara made a noise of annoyance.

"Don't start. You're no better with Reggie."

Dominique's curiosity was now suddenly piqued. She wasn't surprised they knew Felicity—because they seemed to know everyone—but she was also surprised they were friendly enough to hang out. "You know Felicity?"

Both Erin and Zara made identical, obvious expressions. It was the sort of thing only two people who'd spent ages together as friends could pull off as effortlessly as they did. "Yes?"

"She was only our Keeper for years," Zara added. "And, obviously, Erin's ex."

"Oh," Dominique said, feeling both a bit dumb for not putting together the pieces that they were all Slytherins and they all played Quidditch, but also surprised by the ex thing. She hadn't known that. The champagne was slowing her down.

"Anyway," Erin said as if moving things along, "She mentioned you smoked with her the other night. Apparently, you got the good stuff. Something laced with—I think it was viratusium?"

"Sounds interesting," Zara said, casually sipping from her cup. "But I'd be afraid to mess with that stuff. Wouldn't you be talking shit?" She gave Dominique a look. "Not that you don't anyway."

She said nothing, but Erin laughed and said, "Apparently, that's exactly what you do. You talk a lot of shit and spill a lot of secrets."

Dominique stared at her. That comment had been specific. She was playing at something.

"Anything good?" Zara asked. "Weasley got anything to hide?"

"I did hear something," she said. "Seems our suspicions have been confirmed. She does fancy Ians."

Fuuuuuck. Dominique let her eyes travel to the ceiling as she drained the rest of her second glass. Well, there it was. If these two knew, then everyone would know. Jack would probably know—if he didn't already.

"That's what Felicity said, at least," Erin added, now directly speaking to Zara. "But Weasley hasn't worked things out yet because it's apparently complicated."

Zara shrugged, seemingly unimpressed by the reveal. Perhaps she was hoping for a love child or a penchant for group sex, but instead she only got a crush. "I don't think too many would be shocked to hear that." She looked at Dominique. "Why's it complicated?"

"It just is," she muttered, her eyes on the ceiling.

"I think you two would be good together," Zara offered, which wasn't a comment Dominique had anticipated. "You're really hard to put up with, but he does it better than most."

She lowered her head to glare at her. Why was she even sitting here with them?

"I only mean he seems to get you," Zara said. "I'm being honest when I say I think you two would be good together. It's a strange balancing act, but—" She looked at Erin, "I think it would work."

"It's not the worst couple I've ever heard."

"Plus," Zara said, "if he goes on to be a professional Quidditch player, you should get in now before everyone starts hearing about it and starts throwing themselves at him. I mean, he's cute, he's nice, he could potentially be successful."

Dominique made a face which made Erin laugh and immediately say, "I have a feeling Weasley's got her own pro-plans and they don't include hitching her wagon to Ians'." She watched her for a minute. "You know that now he's attracted the attention of the right people, they're going to be at all of your matches, right? Every time Gryffindor plays they'll be there. You need to step it up and win back some of the points you lost here."

"Yeah, we've talked about that," Dominique said. "I intend to take advantage of that. They'll be at Slytherin's too." Her gaze traveled over to Zara.

"Which is why this one," Zara gestured to Erin, "has a chance to redeem herself." She looked over at her. "I don't know what got into her here, but she was nowhere near as good as she can be."

Erin started absently playing with a loose thread in her bedsheet, but she said nothing.

"Either way, we've all got to make next season count," Zara said, finishing her glass and letting out a small burp. "Shit. It's seventh-year already."

"I wish we didn't have exams so we could properly enjoy it," Erin said.

"I think it'll be fantastic even with exams," Zara said as Erin grabbed the bottle and then awkwardly attempted to pour more into Dominique's cup from just out of reach; it forced Dominique to lean forward to help her out. "There's the Camp Out night, all the club events, we can now go to Hogsmeade every weekend—not just the scheduled ones."

"Do you even really give a shit about going to Hogsmeade anymore?" Erin asked. "It's gotten so boring."

"I might enjoy it a lot more if I'm not standing in endless queues behind third and fourth-years who swarm the place like bloody locusts," Zara said. "I'm merely saying, I feel as if seventh-year will be fun."

There was a knock at the door just then, which caused Zara to hop up and check to see who was there. Dominique couldn't see since, once the door swung open, it obstructed her view, but Zara seemed pleasantly surprised given her cheerful reaction. "Done for the day, then?"

"Finally, yeah," came Jack's voice, which caused something in Dominique's chest to jump. She forced herself to stay put in her seat, not wanting to seem too excited and draw funny looks from the Slytherin girls who were now full of information she wished they didn't know. She instead played it cool, as if pretending to not know who was standing there.

"Bet I know who you're looking for," Zara said in a tone Dominique immediately hated. "She's in here. Come in."

Jack stepped inside and, just as when Zara had arrived, he looked exhausted. Dominique found herself smiling at the sight of him, despite knowing that it was the opposite of playing it cool. He threw a quick smile around the room before it landed on her. "Hey. Ellibit said you were down here."

"Where'd she go?" Erin asked, looking at the spot Ellibit had vacated earlier. "I'd forgotten she'd left."

"She's out with Mike in the common area," he said, running a hand through his very much in need of a shower—but yet, also oddly sexy—hair. "They're hitting the Firewhiskey hard. But it seems—" He picked up their half drunk bottle of champagne and examined it before setting it back down, "you three are as well."

"Not like we have anything to do tomorrow," Zara muttered. "Unlike some people…"

"Perhaps you should have a glass," Dominique said. "I hear congratulations are in order."

He mustered a small grin before letting a heavy sigh escape from him. "I never get to tell my own news."

"Well, it does travel fast," Zara said in an overly enthusiastic manner, as if drawing attention away from the fact that it was she who'd told everyone. She held up the bottle. "You want some?"

He shook his head. "I'm not much of a fan, but thanks. Plus, I need to shower, so I'm going to go do that." He looked over to Dominique. "I was just wondering what you were up to."

Both Erin and Zara were watching her with amused looks on their faces as they sipped their drinks. She chose to purposely look away from them and instead focus on Jack. "Come find me when you're done."

"Will do," he said, throwing a polite smile around the room again before lazily walking out the door. The room was awkwardly silent once the door snapped shut.

"Is it just me or is she blushing?"

"She sure as hell was smiling."

"If I am," Dominique said, holding up her cup, "it's because of this, not him."

Erin ignored her. "I mean, he's got to know, Weasley. He's not an idiot. That wasn't exactly a subtle reaction. You literally lit up like a bloody lantern when he walked in."

"No," she snapped. "He doesn't know. He wouldn't even consider it, and that's the way I like it. If anything, he thinks I'm drunk and acting silly. Which isn't entirely untrue because this stuff is starting to hit me." She blinked a few times. "I should probably stop."

"I say you keep going," Erin said. "And get properly wasted. Tell him all about how you feel. I always enjoy a nice drunk confession."

Zara swatted her. "Stop trying to get people into trouble." She looked back at Dominique. "While I do think you should say something, I don't agree with the whole drunk confession. Especially when he's as sober as he is. Nothing good will come from that. And also, he's probably got a lot on his mind right now with that match tomorrow and all that pressure. He doesn't need this tonight."

"Thank you," Dominique said, throwing Erin a look. "At least one of you has some sense."

"Oh, I've got sense," Erin said, "But I'm also a wee bit drunk, so…" She smiled and held up her cup. "I'm looking to be entertained."


	18. Two Sisters

"I'll catch up," Dominique said after she and the Slytherin girls decided to see what was happening out in the common area. She'd waved Zara and Erin along; stopping beside her own room once she noticed that the door was ajar. When she pushed it open, she found Jack sitting on the edge of his bed rubbing his face vigorously with a towel. She watched him for a moment before finally knocking three times in a cursory manner to let him know she was standing there.

He looked up. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, feeling as though the natural thing to do would be to take the seat across from him on her own bed, but fighting that instinct. She would be breaking her number one rule of this place if she did that—letting herself drink and finding herself alone with him. She instead lingered in the entryway while she left the door wide open. "You look knackered."

He made a face as if to say she had no idea. He really did look completely exhausted, though she had no idea whether he was physically or mentally tired. While she envied his position, she didn't envy what seemed to be non-stop days of constant meet and greets on top of hours of Quidditch.

She leaned against the doorframe, partly because it seemed casual, but mostly because she felt a little wobbly. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"As I'll ever be," he said, though she detected some nerves in his tone. He stood up from his bed. "I'll be happy when it's all said and done and I can relax again." He smiled. "You've had a few drinks tonight. Wish I could switch places with you right now."

"And I wish I could switch places with you."

His smile faltered. "Right. Sorry. I don't know why I said that. Obviously, you'd rather…"

She waved him off, not in the mood for the sad talk about how she deserved to be there and it should have been her, too. She was done feeling sorry for herself. Her choices had been made; dwelling on them wasn't helping anyone. "Let's not. Let's just focus on the fact that you get to play tomorrow and that's remarkable."

His smile was forced this time.

"Seriously, in the time I've known you, you've gone from—" She made her voice sound high pitched and a little silly, 'Oh, I want to play Quidditch, but I don't even know what position to try,'" she resumed her normal voice, "to one of the top Beater candidates right now. You know that's fucking madness, right?"

He seemed a little awkward under her praise, but as far as she was concerned he needed to get over it.

"Fucking madness," she repeated, shaking her head. "But in all honesty, while I'm obviously mad with jealousy, I really am happy for you. Truly."

"You mean that?"

"Of course." She made a face. "Do you actually think I'm not happy for you?"

"You stopped speaking to me for months when I got captain." His eyes locked on hers. "Can't really blame me for being worried about how you'd react."

It was a fair point. It wasn't until that moment that she realized she may have been mistaking his anxiousness at all of these high rankings and prime playing spots for humbleness. He wasn't trying to downplay the fact that he'd achieved all these things because he was trying not to brag or thought he didn't deserve it. He was downplaying it all because he was afraid she was going to be angry with him.

"I guess I can't," she said as that realization continued to resonate with her. "But, unlike the captain thing, you properly deserved this, so…" She smirked, hoping he saw that she was attempting a joke. "I mean, it wasn't you who made me stay out all night that night and then play like shit. That was my fuck up."

"I mean, it sort of was my fault. Had I not been occupying the room when you came back—"

"Jack, I could have easily blown up your whole little sex party had I wanted to. You know I'm not above that. I probably should have, but instead I went and ran into Reynolds and made some decisions and…" She shrugged. "The rest is history now."

"So, you did sleep with him?"

"You knew that. I told you that the other day."

"You never really said what you did. I was trying not to assume."

She laughed. "Why not? Everyone else does."

His face was hard to decipher at that moment, "People always assume the worst. I wasn't trying to do that."

"'The worst' is certainly not a term I would use when referring to that night," she said. "It was actually the opposite of—"

"Alright, well, good for you, then," he said hastily, suddenly reminding her of Louis whenever the topic of sex and her came up. He obviously saw her similarly. If anything, it felt a bit like a slap in the face that he was now acting the same way her brother did when it came to her being a person capable of having sex. It was one of the many boxes he probably had her placed in.

She cleared her throat, now wanting to escape the room. "Everyone's gone out to the common area? Do you want to…?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah, it'd be good to just turn off for a bit. Some mindlessness after this day."

"Well, there's plenty of mindlessness with that lot," she said, stepping out into the corridor. Jack had followed her out, now shutting the door behind them. They walked mostly in silence, though Dominique got the distinct impression that it was due more to him just being tired than anything more.

In the common area they were greeted by a fairly boisterous scene. For being the boring dorm, the room was packed with plenty of people. Cliques and pockets were scattered throughout every table, everyone chatting and laughing. It felt as if she'd walked into a high energy pub; certainly nothing like the common area of the first night she was here.

The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were sitting at the same table they'd been at the day before, only Zara was now sitting in the seat Dominique had spent much of last night occupying. They were playing cards, with Michael's bottle of Firewhiskey and Zara's bottle of champagne sitting prominently on the table. By the looks of things, the champagne was nearly gone. That could only mean both Zara and Erin had still been going strong.

"Look who it is!" Michael said as they approached their table, now looking around for extra chairs. "Sit. Join us."

They had to search for chairs, though Jack did all the work and eventually returned with two for the pair of them. Everyone slid around a circular table and squished together; she and Jack sandwiched between both groups. Mike offered to deal them both in for the next round, but Dominique was perfectly happy to watch. Her head was starting to spin more and more with each passing moment.

"Weasley, there's a bit left," Erin said as she picked up the champagne and shook it in front of her face. "It's got your name on it."

She shook her head. The three glasses she'd had were more than enough. Erin didn't ask twice and took the last bit and topped off both she and Zara's cups. Both of them started laughing for some reason at the gesture.

"So, mate, you nervous about tomorrow?" Michael had asked Jack as he absently arranged his hand of cards.

"A healthy amount of nervousness, I think. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"You want some?" Michael asked, offering him his bottle of Firewhiskey. "I feel as if we should be toasting to your success or something."

Jack shook his head. "Any other night, you know I would. But I'm looking to take it easy. I'm probably going to sleep soon."

"Boring," Erin mumbled. She was clearly drunk now and was wobbling slightly in her chair. She was also holding her cards backwards and exposing them all to the rest of the table.

"Whatever happened with that French girl you met?" Michael continued. "You two never got together?"

Jack shook his head, clearly keeping a tight lip. Michael made a face that seemed to express what a shame that was, but was now busy throwing more cards down to trump the cards Zara had played and beat her. He cheered when he won the hand.

"I think Weasley clearly wins the week for most memorable encounter," Ellibit muttered. "Zara, did you hear about her and Reynolds?"

"For fuck's sake," Dominique mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I would have never even talked to him if I knew everyone would talk about this."

"That's old news," Zara said, waving her hand as if she couldn't be bothered—despite the fact that she was more than interested days ago. "Heard that ages ago." She looked at Dominique. "Have you seen him since?"

"No, but I wasn't looking to," Dominique said as Michael dealt everyone new cards around the table.

"The sex couldn't have been that good," Zara muttered, picking her cards up.

Perfect. Why not have this conversation now? After she'd been drinking and the boy she fancied sat directly beside her, completely sober. This was exactly what she wanted to do.

"She said it was good," Ellibit offered. "She said a lot of things about it."

"What do you all talk about?" Michael asked, looking at Ellibit.

"Same stuff blokes do," Zara said, slopping a bit of champagne out of her cup. "Except with cocks. Size, stamina, whether they're crooked or not. Don't be a prude, Ellison. Let us have our fun."

Michael was caught off guard by that, and even Jack's expression was one of half amusement and half shock, but neither said anything. Erin and Zara fell into absolute hysterics, while Ellbit shook her head and was now muttering something about that not being entirely true. Dominique had a small laugh as well, hoping they could divert the conversation away from the specifics of her sex life and onto something more group focused. That idea was quickly scrapped when Jack nudged her and asked. "Are you going to tell your sister?"

"About?"

"You and Reynolds. Didn't they date?"

Erin laughter died in an instant. "Wait a second, you slept with your sister's ex? Weasley, you have no shame!"

Dominique sat up straighter. Not that she owed any of these people any explanation, but after being faced with these accusations, she felt the need to defend herself. "First of all, they didn't properly date." She glanced around the table to see everyone was listening. "They kissed once at a party and went to Hogsmeade once—"

"So, what you're trying to say," Michael asked, his tone more than obvious as to what he was playing at," is that they went...on a date?"

"You can stop," she said, throwing him a look that dared him to push this. "What I'm saying is that it wasn't serious, so piss off." She turned to look down at the tabletop, now attempting to convince herself that Victoire wouldn't be upset. She genuinely hadn't considered her hearing about this, so the idea of talking to her about it hadn't crossed her mind. "Anyway, she's madly in love with her boyfriend now. She wouldn't care. This isn't an issue."

"They only kissed the one time?" Jack asked. "That's it? I thought they were at it for awhile."

"That's what Stuart said."

"I was there, then," Jack said absently, discarding several cards and picking up more. "If it only happened the one time. I remember that."

Dominique turned to him, just as Zara and Erin also pulled almost identical looks that seemed to question why he would have been there. "Ew. Why?"

"It was at Victoire's birthday party," he said defensively, looking at all of the faces that were currently judging him. "I wasn't lurking in a bedroom or something; they did it right there in the open. I remember because that was the night Jane and I had started talking for the first time."

"Who the hell is Jane?" Erin asked. "Did we go to school with a Jane?"

"Yes. She's my ex," Jack said. "We dated for almost a year."

"When did you date someone called Jane?"

"I thought you dated that other girl for a year?" Zara said. "What was her name? It wasn't Jane."

"Yes, it was."

"I don't think it was," said Erin, causing him to stare at her as if she'd gone mental.

"He means Whit—Jane Whitters," Dominique said, tired of the back and forth. She understood their confusion. Every time Jack called Whit by her actual name, it confused everyone since he was the only one who ever did. "He always calls her that for some reason."

"Because it's her name," he said. "It's where we started things and I sure as hell don't care enough to change it now."

"Doesn't make it not weird," she said with a laugh, throwing all of her cards down on the table when she realized she had nothing to play. "Anyway, finish your story. You were being a weird creeper and watching Vic snog Stuart because…?"

"I wasn't being a—" He shook his head. "I only remember because Jane—" They both made a point to look at each other at that moment, which made Dominique laugh again and Jack roll his eyes—"Whatever. The two of us were outside the party, talking. Then Vic and this whole group of other people showed up. Reynolds, some of his friends, Colleen Lynch—"

Dominique wrinkled her nose. That was an unpleasant blast from the past. Colleen Lynch had fucked with everyone—Victoire, Louis, Whit, Jack— and had been the person Dominique had attempted to curse in the common room after she'd finally had enough of her treatment of them.

She'd never personally messed with her, but it was because of her that she'd received that suspension for the House Cup match her fifth year. If Colleen hadn't provoked her into cursing her, she wouldn't have been suspended; they probably would have won the House Cup and maybe Dominique's chances at being Quidditch captain wouldn't have been completely erased that day. The more she thought about it, Colleen Lynch had actually fucked with her the most.

"—and her friends were there," Jack was still staying. "And I had no idea what's going on, I was only trying to talk to a girl. But the next thing I know they're all playing truth or dare, and it's the most hostile version of that game I've ever seen."

Michael made a point of telling Zara it was her time to play her cards, but she made a motion with her hand to shush him. "Wait, I want to hear this story," she said. "So, what happened? Hostile how?"

"Well, to make a long story short," Jack continued, "Victoire and Colleen were obviously at odds with each other over Reynolds. I could figure that much out. They were going back and forth, then Jane—Whit, whatever—got bold and goes and dares Reynolds to kiss Victoire in front of all of us. And they do, but that sets Colleen off since you know how psycho she could be, so…" He shrugged. "Anyway, if that was the one time, that's why I saw it. I wasn't being creepy."

"What did Colleen do?" Zara asked. "We all know she's not taking something like that lightly."

"Yeah, I feel like Whit really didn't think that through," Dominique said.

"She didn't," he said. "Because of that, Colleen tried to destroy our relationship twice before it even got started. And here was the first attempt because after Jane did that, Colleen dared Victoire to kiss me, knowing that it would upset Jane."

"You kissed my sister?!" Dominique blurted out. She hadn't meant to; it had come out without thought. How—HOW?!—had Jack never mentioned this before? How had Victoire? How had Louis? He had to know. But if he knew, she'd have found out, so maybe he didn't know? Maybe no one knew? But he'd said there had been loads of people there watching the game, so someone knew. There was no way this would have been kept a secret. What was happening?

She felt warm; hoping it was the alcohol, but she ultimately knew that was only a part of it. Was she jealous of something that had happened almost two years ago? She hadn't even given boys, or snogging, or Jack a second-thought two year ago. But...Victoire? Of all people. Why? How? Why?

She suddenly felt absolutely no guilt for her night with Stuart. None.

"I can't believe you snogged Victoire," Zara said, laughing as if this was a fun and new piece of gossip she'd discovered.

"I didn't do it!" Jack said, watching everyone practically have a freak out over this apparent revelation. He looked at Dominique last. "Of course I didn't do it."

Her body instantly felt as if a cold wind had swept over her, leaving her a little clammy and shocked. The heat she'd felt trapped inside felt as if it was seeping out like steam pouring out of a kettle. She didn't know what to do. She barely knew what had just happened to her.

"It's a dare, not the law," he said. "I wasn't going to do it."

"Why?" asked Erin. "It's just a game."

"Games are supposed to be fun, but there was nothing fun about that," he said, completely oblivious to Dominique's mini-meltdown beside him. "Colleen was trying to start shit. She was angry with Jane. She was angry with Victoire. She tried to kill two birds with one stone, but neither of us would do it."

Erin shrugged. "Victoire's pretty fit. I don't know too many people who would have passed on that."

"I was talking to her friend," he reiterated. "I didn't want to mess that up. And I obviously was not about to kiss my best mate's sister and deal with that fallout." He shook his head. "You can't do that."

Dominique's eyes shot to him immediately. He was looking at the Firewhiskey bottle on the table and absently reading over the label—completely oblivious to her gaze practically tearing through him. He had said that—can't kiss your best mate's sister—clear as day. She blinked a bit before glancing across the table to where Zara and Erin were both staring at her. She knew what they were thinking. They'd heard the words come out of his mouth as well. Even Ellibit was looking at her a little funny; as if she was attempting to gauge how those words may have affected her.

"Yeah, you can't," said Michael, the only other person who seemed completely oblivious to what was happening. He also was the only person still playing cards.

She suddenly sat up straight and looked directly at Jack, feeling bolder than she ever felt. She didn't know if it was the champagne, the environment, or the fact that everyone was staring at her, but she felt emboldened.

"You can't?"

He'd set the bottle back down and looked back at her. He probably assumed this was a random drunk rambling of a question, and perhaps it was, but she also now felt more clear headed than she had been all night.

"I can't…?" He seemed confused as to what was being asked and why he was getting such a look; why almost everyone at the table was looking at him. "I don't…? I mean, it was a stupid game. Wasn't worth pissing Louis off for." When she didn't look away from him and remained stone faced, he added, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Completely clueless," Erin attempted to whisper to Zara, though her whisper tone at the moment was the same volume as her normal voice. "This is why I don't do boys. Don't know why you waste your time with them."

Dominique continued to stare at him, though after a few more seconds she finally let herself look away when it was clear he wasn't getting it. This was the icing on the cake. It was more than apparent that her feelings were entirely one-sided and she now felt rather embarrassed for having them.

"Hey Jack," Erin asked, holding up one finger. "Victoire is Louis' only sister, right?"

"You know she's not." He gestured to Dominique.

"Ohhhhh," she said with fake enthusiasm, pretending she'd just discovered something. She suddenly held up two fingers. "So, you're saying he's got two sisters?"

Zara could barely hold her laughter from beside her, though she did reach out to push Erin's hand and fingers down into her lap. "Stop it. Leave it alone."

"I thought maybe he needed a reminder."

"What are you…?" His confusion was boiling over into aggravation now. "Am I missing something?"

"Yes!" Erin yelled, though she was cut off by Zara shushing her and Dominique immediately attempting to change the subject.

"Can we play cards?" she asked, gesturing for Michael to deal them out. "I don't even care what game, let's just play."

Michael seemed happy to have the game back on track, and they played several hands that Dominique barely paid attention to. The others were back to laughing and chatting about random things, like why the bloke two tables down had a cat at the Trials or whether the chicken in the commissary had a funny aftertaste, but Dominique was giving the bare minimum amount of attention to what was happening. Everything felt hazy and distant and it was hard to focus. She simply continued to play her cards in silence over and over again until deciding she didn't want to be there any longer.

But she unfortunately hadn't left quick enough, seeing as Giggleswick and Baileymoore chose that moment to walk back through the front door. Baileymoore had dashed quickly toward the rooms for some reason, though Giggleswick had lingered behind and meandered over to their table. Michael and Ellibit were the only ones to actively greet him when he approached, though after a polite nod to them, he glanced around the table without much interest. "Why are you all sitting around tonight being boring? Why not go out and enjoy your last night? Have some actual fun?"

"I've gone out almost every night. I've had enough fun," Erin muttered, and Zara nodded as if to agree with her. Michael and Ellibit commented that playing cards and sipping Firewhiskey was their idea of fun, while Jack reminded him that he was having a mild night considering that he actually had to play tomorrow.

"Yeah, I'll be taking it easy tonight as well," Giggleswick said with a nod toward Jack. "Just in case I'm needed tomorrow. You never know." He glanced over at Dominique. "Lucky for you, you can get wasted since you're all done. Sort of looks like you might already be on your way."

"Fuck off," she said, her patience worn thin. "No one's going to need you tomorrow and you know it."

He shrugged as Baileymoore returned just then, holding up a piece of parchment to him for some reason. Giggleswick nodded and looked as if he was ready to be on his way, but not before adding. "Well, you have fun, Weasley. I hear you've been doing a lot of that lately. Getting close with Stu Reynolds. Been _very_ busy."

Baileymoore snickered. That annoyed her more than Giggleswick's comment since it wasn't even a good insult.

"That's really the best you've got?" she asked, rolling her eyes as his lame attempt to shame her. "Oh no, I've had some sex. So scandalous." She sat back in her chair to look at him. "You should give it a go yourself. Maybe you'd be less of a knob if you could find someone who'd touch yours."

"I draw the line at talking about Giggleswick's knob," Erin muttered, wrinkling her nose.

"Weasley can't help it," he said without missing a beat. "She's obviously got a thing for Ravenclaw cocks."

A dark shadow passed over Dominique's face. That had been the sort of comment that got everyone's attention. Baileymoore looked shocked, but also highly amused as he attempted to stifle a laugh. Michael and Ellibit both looked as if they were pretending to have not heard and were glancing awkwardly at each other. Erin and Zara were staring directly at her, as if waiting for her to unleash the hell they'd become accustomed to from her.

"You're a piece of..." She had instinctively reached for her wand, but felt Jack grab her hand to keep her from pulling it out. She was in no mood and wasn't about to listen to some lecture from him about how she needed to calm down and think straight. Cursing Giggleswick was thinking straight; she had absolutely nothing to lose. Her Trials were over. She was done. Let them throw her out. It would be worth it.

But Jack was still holding onto her hand, even after he had stood up to face Giggleswick. "Walk away now."

Giggleswick rolled his eyes. "Or what?"

"Would you let go?!" Dominique said, still trying to wriggle her hand free from his grasp. He had—not unsurprisingly—quite the grip. "Let me take care of this!"

"I'm trying to keep you from taking care of this." He turned back to Giggleswick. "If you want to find out, we can go outside?"

"Jack," said Ellibit. "You have to play tomorrow. You can't—"

"Yeah, don't be stupid," said Zara, watching them both. "They'll throw both of you out. Not worth it."

Giggleswick remained stone faced. "I'm not scared of you."

"You shouldn't be scared of me," he said. "What you should be scared of is her if I let go of her."

Michael stood now. "Alright, stop everyone." He turned and started pushing Giggleswick along; forcing him to leave the scene. "Come on. You need to walk away. Walk it off. None of this."

Baileymoore, after cowering behind all the action, stood up straight and began trailing after the other two, who were currently walking toward the exit. Ellibit was watching them go as Zara started rubbing her eyes, saying, "It wouldn't be Quidditch without Weasley and Giggleswick trying to kill each other."

"Or my buzz," Erin muttered.

Jack sat back down, though he still hadn't let go of Dominique's hand until she made another heavy tug to get it back. He then let her have it.

"I didn't need you to do that," she said rubbing her hand.

"You're drunk. You were going to destroy him."

"No shit. That was the point."

"You would have gotten thrown out of camp."

"So?" she said. "I'm done here. I have no more obligations. What do I care?"

"You would have regretted it tomorrow." He paused. "And I care."

"Sure, right, whatever you say," she muttered, turning away. "And what exactly were you thinking? You were going to fight him and get kicked out? You? The one with everything to lose?"

"He wouldn't have come outside," he said, looking rather confident in that assumption. "He's all talk."

"I'm aware of that, Jack. Which is why I could have handled him. I don't need you standing up for me. I don't need anyone."

"It was keeping you from killing him!" he said. "And I'm also tired of listening to him. That was as much for me as it was for you."

She couldn't even look at him right now. How many bloody mixed signals could one person throw at someone? He thought she was beautiful, he wanted to be around her, he stood up for her, he always believed in her—but then he also chased after other girls, treated her as Louis does, dismissed her the second the idea of kissing came up. She couldn't take it. She didn't want to play this game anymore.

She stood up then, not wanting to listen to any more. He was annoying her. Everyone was annoying her. Her head hurt. She'd had too much to drink. She wanted everyone to disappear. She wanted to disappear.

As she left the table, she knocked straight into Jack as she passed. It had been a brusque move and she hadn't stopped to apologize, causing him to ask, "What's your problem?"

"I have no problem," she said. "I'm fine. I'm me." She turned to walk away, but not before lastly calling over her shoulder. "I'm your best mate's sister. And now I know exactly what that's worth."


	19. Toast and Tea

A/N: So, I can't count. There were FOUR chapters left; I said three yesterday. I had it in my head this story was twenty chapters when it's twenty-one (twenty-two with the prologue). I apparently labeled chapter 19 twice and didn't notice until uploading them here. So, yay extra chapter...? It also means it'll be tomorrow that we're wrapping up this part of the story. Thanks again for the reviews! You guys are awesome!

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Dominique awoke the following morning feeling as if the Hogwarts' Express had hit her repeatedly. Her head felt as if every vital fluid had been sucked out of it, leaving her brain to be scratching up against the sides of her skull in a grating and painful sort of way. Luckily for her, unlike the last time she'd woken up feeling this hungover, now she was in her own bed and had nowhere important to be. She could afford to lie in and rub her eyeballs deep into her head with the palms of her hands for a bit.

She groaned as she glanced over to the other side of the room—over to Jack's bed, which was vacant as usual. She'd passed out immediately last night, so she hadn't seen when he'd returned. He was probably out running and getting into his proper headspace for what was easily the most important match of his life now.

She could only remember bits and pieces of last night, though she had a sneaking suspicion that they may have fought. She could remember him saying that bit about not kissing his friend's sister and her feeling upset, but not much after. Had he said something else? Had she? She probably had. That was usually the case. Ug, why did she do this? The last thing he needed was that sort of shit before his match. It was the last thing she needed at all. She'd have to ask someone exactly what had happened.

When she finally checked the clock on the wall, it read eight o'clock. It was the latest she'd slept-in in days, but that was the luxury she was afforded now. The Premier match started at ten, which meant she had two hours to shake this headache, pack her bags, eat something, and get down to the central pitch to watch. It seemed an easy enough morning for most, but this headache was large enough that she'd need something other than a glass of water to rid herself of it.

She rose and began gathering her things. Most of her clothes were dirty and discarded into her bag, so her actual carryall was feather-light now. All that remained inside was a single outfit, her toothbrush, a hairbrush, a small bag of soaps and deodorant, and her travel broom care kit. Her trainers sat on the floor beside her bed, next to her very large bag of dirty clothes. She looked over to see her broom leaning up against the wall at the foot of her bed and realized that was everything she'd brought here. Seemed she was already packed.

A quick shower helped rinse the gross night of drinking off of her, and she changed into her last remaining outfit before chucking everything left into her bag. She put on her trainers and gave her side of the room a once-over to make sure everything she wanted to take home was now either on her or packed. She placed the bag beside her broom and stepped back. She was ready to go home.

It seemed Jack had mostly packed up his things as well. His broom and bat were laying down the length of his bed, obviously ready for him to pick up when he returned. His bag was sitting at the foot, though anything clean or useful he'd removed and set to the side.

She reached out to pick up his bat and held it in her hands. It always seemed so heavy as she turned it over and examined it. She could remember the day he'd showed it to her after he'd purchased it from Quality Quidditch Supplies. It had been that summer after their fifth-year—before the World Cup and him getting his captain letter. His parents had given him some money for getting through his exams, and he'd used that to upgrade his old, starter bat into something more professional grade. She could easily recall how he'd been worried that he couldn't handle the weight adjustment; how he'd dropped it probably ten times that first time out with it on his broom. He'd obviously figured it out. He now swung it around as if it was as light as his wand.

She inspected the dents and nicks that were viewed as battle scars. If a Beater's bat wasn't decorated with them, then there was a good chance they were piss poor. Her bat would probably look pristine if she owned one. Beating was by far her weakest area on a Quidditch pitch and the position she never volunteered to play even in a game of pickup. She'd tried once and it was the worst experience. She knew all about proper Beating and technique, but she was incapable of executing it. It was the one position that required you to retrain your brain to fly one-handed for the entire length of a match. It wasn't a glamorous position and rarely got to be the hero, but it was incredibly important.

She flipped the bat once more, feeling as though it was yesterday when Louis and Jack had approached her that summer day after their first year at school. Jack had been over to the house, as he was almost every day that summer, attached at the hip to Louis. He'd shown a lot of promise in their introductory flying class at Hogwarts, whereas Louis couldn't get the bloody thing off the ground. Dominique had, of course, been flying for years, but she had noticed Jack had natural talent. The broom had come right into his hand on his command and he'd flown well for someone who'd never so much as tried before. He'd spent the rest of their first year working on flying and getting a handle on things; by that summer he was now apparently interested in learning Quidditch.

"You could teach him," Louis had said to her, cornering her in their kitchen after noticing she had her broom in her hand. She had been heading out to her quiet clearing in the woods near her house to practice. It felt as if Louis had been waiting for her with that specific question in mind.

"No," she said. "Why would I want to spend my time teaching him when I need to practice myself?"

"Practice for what?" he asked. "You said it yourself, you have over a year until the Seeker spot opens up. That's plenty of time."

She had said that. The current Gryffindor Seeker was headed into his seventh-year and there were actually no open spaces on the current team. They probably wouldn't even hold tryouts for Gryffindor this year.

"Just show him how it's done," he said. "He's read all he can. He's learned all he can on his own. He needs someone to play with. I thought you'd love this. Someone to actually play with."

"Yeah, someone who knows what they're doing," she mumbled.

She'd eventually relented however, seeing as Louis would not quit asking. He'd also threatened that if she wasn't willing to help, he was still going to let Jack use her Quidditch space since it was technically their shared space. When she protested, their parents sided with Louis—claiming that the clearing in the woods was for everyone to use, not just her. Apparently, Jack and Louis would be there whether she wanted them to be or not.

And so Louis had brought Jack out there one day when Dominique had been flying. When she landed, she noticed that Jack had a decent second hand broom; one that wasn't fancy or full of features, but a solid classic Firebolt 350. It would get the job done. At least she didn't have to worry about trying to help him on a rubbish broom.

"What position do you even want to play?" she asked, forgoing all pleasantries or even hellos as she marched up to the pair.

"Not Seeker," Louis said. "I've already told him he cannot be a Seeker or you'll murder him. Doesn't want to be a Seeker."

Jack nodded, but didn't answer. He'd been far more timid around her then. She had a feeling he was a little intimidated by her—and that was especially evident when it came to Quidditch and flying. He probably wouldn't have had a thing to do with her had Louis not been his best friend; she suspected that her helping him was more Louis' idea than his.

"So, what position?" she asked again, her tone impatient.

"I…" He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I know them all, but I don't really fancy one more than the others." He paused before adding. "Not Seeker, though."

"Not Seeker," Louis repeated.

Dominique sighed, taking him in. He wasn't skinny and had more of a solid look to him. He'd probably grow up to be bigger; whether that was chunky or muscular was for him to decide. He'd carry some weight one way or another. Even if he wanted to be a Seeker, she'd have genuinely advised him against it since Seeking was more for the lean.

"If I were you," she said. "I'd keep toward Keeper or Beater. You look like you'd fit those. Especially if you get some height on you one day. Are your parents tall? How tall is your father?"

Jack stared at her, seemingly unsure of what she was asking.

"She takes this all very seriously," Louis said. "But she knows her stuff." He looked back at his sister. "They're average, I'd say. His dad's not tall, but he's not short either."

She nodded. "Definitely one of those two, then. But the problem with being a Keeper is that Gryffindor picked up a Keeper this year. That Adams bloke. And he's only just going into his fourth-year, so that means you've got a few years before that spot's open. You could challenge him for the spot, but that's not particularly cool. That means you wouldn't be able to try out until…" She stopped to do the math.

"Sixth-year," Louis offered.

"No, that's too long," Jack said. "What spots are opening up soon?"

"Nothing this year," she said. "No one's graduated and they probably won't even hold tryouts. I don't even think they need alternates. But the year after—our third year—they're going to need a Seeker, a Beater, and a Chaser. Almost half the team will be gone."

He was nodding now. "And you think I should try to be a Beater over a Chaser?"

"Can you swing a bat while flying?"

"I've never tried."

"Then we need to answer that question first."

Dominique had a small, feeble looking shack out there that she and her father had built for her to store some of her Quidditch things. She kept an old chest of beat-up equipment in there, most of which she rarely touched, but she'd collected it nonetheless.

When she opened it, she was hit in the face by hot, stale air; the chest's contents clearly hadn't seen the light of day since last summer and before she'd left for school. Deflated Quaffles, broken Snitches, rusted bristle scissors, some dead bug carcasses, various sizes of gloves—many without their partner, a used Keeper's helmet, a pair of Bludgers—one cracked, one not—and near the bottom, two ancient looking Beater bats. She pulled them both out.

"Where'd you even get those?" Louis asked, his eyes scanning the rest of the chest. "Why do you have any of this?"

"Grams gave it to me," she said, trying to decide which bat to let Jack use. "When she was cleaning out the Burrow one day, she said I could take anything I wanted. I found this chest and took it. Most of it is rubbish, but I got a few things that I already put to good use." She held out one of the bats to Jack. "My uncles were Beaters at school, so I assume these were theirs. The left one looks in better shape than the right, but they're both really old so I'm not sure how well they'll hold up."

Jack took it and proceeded to swing it around a little, trying to get a feel for it. Dominique watched him and noticed something rather surprising. "Are you left-handed?"

He nodded. "But if it matters, I can still use my right hand well enough. I use both for almost everything else." He switched hands and suddenly started swinging it around well with his right hand. "Which one is better?"

She involuntarily started to grin, mumbling to herself, "He can use both hands." She looked over a Louis, who was smirking in a way as if to say, _And you thought I was wasting your time? _When she looked back at Jack, she immediately knew that he had to be a Beater. The advantages were too great for him not to be. A Beater who could switch hands could be a force to be reckoned with. Some of the best ones to ever play the sport had that ability.

"Both is better."

They'd spent the rest of that summer there in that clearing for at least an hour a day, sometimes two; her practicing and him learning the ins and outs of Quidditch. Jack started to learn how to fly with a bat in his hand, how to hit a moving target, how to work on his aim. Dominique and Louis would release Bludgers for him, watching as he hit them back at them—switching between both hands.

They would keep up their sessions sporadically throughout their second year, though by then Jack was proficient enough that he wasn't afraid to work with other people. Both she and him would get comments that they should try out of the team the following year, which they both did. The rest had been history. Jack continued to work as hard from there on out as he did from the first day. His ambidextrous skills set him apart from others and he only got better and better every year, arguably becoming the best Beater in the school. And now, it wasn't even arguable—it was a fact. He was the best Beater at school, by far. He was one of the best Beaters here at the Trials. Who knew what came next?

She set his bat back down where she'd found it, sighing a little as she rubbed her face. A part of her wanted to wait for him to return to wish him luck before his match, but she didn't even know if he even wanted to see her or what sort of terms they were on after last night. Also, her head was in desperate need of some sort of relief potion and she needed to eat as well. She'd see him soon enough.

She'd pulled the door open and left the room, noticing the dorm seemed very much alive at the moment. People were pulling bags and duffles out of their rooms; some looking as if they were leaving early. People were hugging and saying goodbye; others leaving details to contact each other. Most had their doors open and were cleaning out their room. Just across the hall, Michael and Ellibit had their door open, both of whom were finishing up their own packing. Dominique noticed that at some point, they'd pushed their two twin beds together.

Ellibit saw her watching and waved. "Do you want to go to the match with us?"

She shrugged, seeing no reason to say no. She definitely didn't want to attend alone. "I need food first. And something for my head. It's killing me."

"We can help you with the headache," Ellibit offered, glancing over at Michael who must have been listening to their conversation because he dug out a small vial of liquid from his bag and handed it to Ellibit without comment. He then proceeded to return to his packing—or rather stuffing his things haphazardly into his bag.

Ellibit handed it to her, and Dominique realized it was a potion of some kind. When she asked where they'd picked this up from, Elilbit explained that Michael—while not great a Quidditch, was a Potions prodigy of sorts—had whipped the two of them up enough Pepper-Up potions to get them both through the week. They'd already taken some that morning, and this was the last one. Now that they were leaving for home, they didn't need it.

Dominique stared at it. While a part of her was happy to have it, the other part of her wished she'd known this the other day. This little vial could have saved her that morning and potentially saved her Trials experience. Not that she'd have had enough time to actually get it from them that morning anyway, but knowing it had been across the hall was a bit of a smack to the face. Why hadn't she planned accordingly? Probably because she'd planned on not drinking and only focusing on Quidditch. That had worked out well.

She thanked them as she drank the liquid, immediately feeling the signs of her headache disappearing. Within the minute, it was gone entirely.

She waited for them both to finish packing, which they'd been nearly done with. On their walk down to the commissary, they'd asked if she saw Jack that morning and how he was feeling. She had no answers for them, commenting that they'd probably seen him last the previous night. He'd apparently stayed up for another hour after she'd gone to bed, which was surprising considering he'd been keen on getting to bed early. Apparently, he and Zara sat around taking after Erin had left, which wasn't long after Dominique.

They entered the commissary for what she assumed was the last time, but it was suddenly as if she were reliving the first day of the Trials all over again. People were swarming the place, taking up space at all of the tables and crowding the food area. It was evident then just how many people had nothing to do today other than watch Quidditch.

They had time to kill before making their way down to the Premier pitch, so Dominique chose to actually wait in the queue this time instead of grabbing at the first thing she came across. Michael was droning on about getting some kind of potato, and seemed determined to wait days if that's what it took to get some. Ellibit was anxiously looking around the room for a table to open up when she suddenly nudged Dominique hard in the ribs.

"Three o'clock," she said. "And headed this way."

Dominique rubbed her side. "What are you on about? What happens at three o'clock?"

"No, look at three o'clock." She nudged her head in the direction she was clearly indicating to. "Someone is coming…" She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Stuart Reynolds is walking over this way."

Sure enough, Stuart was headed in this direction and he was looking directly at her. She wasn't quite sure why it was such a secret. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"I don't…" She stopped talking as soon as Stuart was within feet of them. If she was attempting to act cool and nonchalant, it wasn't working. She was now standing up rigidly straight and attempting to avert her eyes anywhere else but on him, which seemed rather strange to observe.

"Hello, you," Stuart said to her, a charmingly handsome smile now plastered onto his face. He had his bag slung over his shoulder and his broom in his hand.

"Hello," she said, returning his smile in a polite way. "You look as if you're leaving? Not staying for the match?"

He shook his head. "I'm back to work tomorrow and I figured I'd give myself as much time to unwind as I can." He shrugged in a modest way. Even his mannerisms seemed carefully crafted to be boyishly handsome. She wondered if he practiced that or if it really did come naturally. "But anyway, I saw you over here and I thought I'd come say that it was nice meeting you. Or rather, I know we'd met before at school, but...it was nice to properly meet you."

"Is that what you're calling it?" she joked, feeling that was the only acceptable way to handle this kind of conversation. "Properly meeting?"

He grinned, "It definitely was a proper meeting." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card. He glanced at it quickly before handing it over to her. "I know you're headed back to school, but when you're out, if you ever get bored and want to grab a drink or something, look me up."

Ellibit wasn't even attempting to hide her nosey curiosity at this point. She was now leering over Dominique's shoulder, attempting to read the card in her hand. Michael now seemed to be paying attention and gently nudged her with his elbow, beckoning her to follow him. She hesitated, but eventually—and begrudgingly—did just that.

"Thanks," Dominique said, putting the card in her pocket. "Yeah, maybe."

It was then that Durrin appeared from the crowd, though unlike Stuart, he didn't have his bag or broom. He swatted Stuart to announce his presence, which made Stuart throw Dominique a quick goodbye smile. "Enjoy the match today. See you around." He briefly dawdled. "Also, if you see your friend, Ted, tell him I said hi."

"Do not do that," said Durrin, which seemed to be the reaction that Stuart had been aiming for. It made him laugh loudly as Durrin shook his head. "Ignore him. In fact, just leave this—" He made a wild gesture signaling to Stuart, "—out of any story you tell him. Trust me on that."

She smirked as the two turned to exit, watching as the pair of them headed off. Before they got too far, she called after, "Durrin, are you leaving as well?"

"No, just seeing him off," he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm going to stay and watch our boy, Jack, out there."

With a quick nod, she turned then to find that Ellibit and Michael had managed to get themselves some food and were now gesturing that they were going to go find a table. She signaled that she'd follow suit in a minute. For now, she was attempting to find something for breakfast that would settle her stomach. Perhaps it was residual hangover queasiness or perhaps it was nerves for how big this match was—she wasn't quite sure—but some toast and tea would really hit the spot right now. Everything else seemed too heavy.

The Hufflepuffs had found a table, or perhaps they'd only joined the one that Erin and Zara had gotten to first, because when Dominique found them, the four were all sitting together near the windows. Ellibit and Michael were happily tucking into breakfast while Zara and Erin— Erin especially—looked tired and hungover. There were glasses of that foul looking green drink sitting in front of the pair of them, as well as large cups of coffee. Erin looked to still be half asleep as she leaned her head against her hand, while Zara seemed to be faring much better. She was tired but alert, currently asking Michael and Ellibit how they were so bloody awake when she'd seen them both polish off a bottle of Firewhiskey.

Dominique dragged a chair over and sat; not bothering with good mornings and instead tucking straight into her toast. Neither Zara or Erin seemed to care, though Zara was now taking her in with intense curiosity. "How do you not feel more hungover? You were in a state last night."

She shrugged, her mouth full of toast. "Dunno. Got a good night's sleep. I heard you stayed up later."

Zara sipped on her green drink, making a face as she did so. "I stayed up until about three. Everyone else left, so I sat around with these really funny Dutch blokes for hours." She yawned. "I can't remember what we talked about, but they were funny." She let her gaze travel over to Erin, who looked to be fast asleep as far as Dominique could tell. "This one went to sleep right after you did, but she was beyond smashed last night."

"Yeah, we were there for that," Dominique said, inserting her tea bag into her hot water and letting it steep.

"No, you have no idea how drunk she was."

"I was there. I saw her."

Zara sighed, lowering her voice a bit. "No, see, the thing is when Erin gets really drunk, she's an open book. She word-vomits all over the place and talks all sorts of shit. And well…" She hesitated. "You should probably know that she told Jack."

"Told him what?" Dominique asked, biting into her toast.

Zara made an obvious face. "Seriously? Wake up, Weasley. About how you fancy him."

She choked on her toast then, coughing up what small pieces she could. Once she'd composed herself, she managed to mumble, "What?"

Zara kept her voice low, not that it mattered because Michael and Ellibit were busy talking to someone who'd stopped by to say hello to them. "Look, I really don't remember too much. I hadn't been paying a lot of attention, but I remember it came up after Mike made a dumb joke about how, maybe, you had secret feelings for Giggleswick. Sort of a Davies part two thing."

"What!?" That wasn't remotely funny.

"Completely taking the piss," Zara said, recoiling at Dominique's energy that she was clearly not prepared to deal with. "He wasn't being serious. We all had a laugh." She started drinking her coffee. "Anyway, Erin then blurts out something about how it's not Giggleswick, it's Jack you fancy."

Dominique stared at her. She didn't know what to say. Jack wouldn't have believed a drunk Erin. He probably would have assumed she was making shit up to start trouble. People said that sort of thing about close male and female friends all the time. He had no reason to believe her.

"She didn't even realize she'd said it," Zara mumbled. "I had to swat her and tell her she was running her mouth about things she shouldn't be. Anyway, Jack didn't even believe her."

She exhaled, feeling relieved. Exactly as she thought. She knew he wouldn't have. What reason would he have to believe a drunk girl that she barely spoke to? A drunk Sarah he might believe. A drunk Erin, he knew better.

"The problem is that Erin sensed that. It seemed to challenge her, so she doubled-down to convince him."

"Doubled-down?" Dominique asked, her eyes now traveling over to Erin. She'd woken up and was now staring into space while attempting to sip on her green drink.

"Things get a bit fuzzy after that," Zara continued, "but from why I remember, she was pointing at me and telling him I'd heard it straight from your mouth as well. And, I mean, I didn't deny it. She even told him that was why you'd gotten upset after that truth or dare story; why you were irritated with him." She paused. "That part made him stop and think—you could see it on his face. She really went in. Don't fuck with Erin when it comes to fact checking. She's very thorough. Her essays are always meticulously sourced and researched. She's the best person to help you write them."

Why in the bloody hell were they now talking about essays? Dominique found her mouth was now tight and her throat was dry. She picked up her tea cup, only to realize that her hand was shaking a spilling the tea inside. She immediately set it back down. "What you're saying is—?"

"I thought you ought to know so you're not blindsided if he says anything to you," Zara said. "Honestly, it's a good thing if you think about it. Everything's out in the open. You can talk about it now."

"I don't want to talk about it! If I wanted to talk about it, I would have talked about it!"

She'd gotten the attention of everyone at the table now. Even Erin snapped her head up before turning to look at her. "What's your problem?"

She could have jumped across the table and throttled her right then and there, but Zara took it upon herself to address her friend. "I'd be nice if I were you. You were the one who went and blew her secret about Jack up last night."

Erin shrugged, though didn't look particularly remorseful. "I barely remember any of last night, but if I said something I shouldn't have—sorry."

_Sorry?_ Dominique's heart was racing. That was all she had? She'd potentially made one of her oldest and closest friendships now a complete clusterfuck and all she had to say for herself was lame sounding sorry? If she hadn't been completely freaking out over the idea that Jack now knew everything, she would have cursed her into the ground.

"What's the matter?" Ellibit asked after noticing the commotion. "What's happened?"

"She's just now heard how Erin told Jack about her fancying him," said Zara.

Dominique eyes went wide, now feeling rather horrified. "Are we telling everyone now?!"

"They were there last night," Zara said. "They'd already heard."

Both Ellibit and Michael made faces as if to say that was true; this wasn't a surprise to them. She'd noticed that they'd neglected to mention this little detail when they'd been recounting the evening to her earlier that day. It seemed like something they should have spoken up about.

Erin was now glaring at Zara now. "You need to stop putting this all on me. Yes, I might have started it, but you were the one trying to finish it."

"What's that mean?" Dominique asked, staring between the two of them. "Finish it how?"

"Relax," Zara said. "Nothing bad. I was telling him the same thing I'd told you. How I think you balance each other well and that you'd be good together. We had a chat about it. Or rather, I did. He didn't say much."

"This isn't happening," Dominique said rather desperately; now letting her head thump onto the table. "This cannot be happening."

"Stop it," Erin said. "You're grown, not a child. You can ask anyone here, he wasn't upset about it."

"He wasn't," Zara said. "He was confused, but he's really hard to read. Still, he didn't argue when I kept telling him how I thought you two would be a good match. He didn't say anything." She stopped as if she was remembering something. "He was actually mostly quiet after you left, now that I think about it."

"Probably…" Dominique said matter-of-factly, "because he's got a potentially life changing Quidditch match today and he didn't need to be hearing any of this the night before."

"He's a big boy," Zara said. "He'll be fine. Why wouldn't he be flattered? Anyway, I didn't have to tell you. I could have let you be blindsided."

"I wouldn't have said anything," Erin mumbled. "Mostly because I forgot it happened, but still."

"See?" Zara said, as if she'd just gone and done her a favor. "You're welcome."

Dominique lifted her head up. She didn't know what to say. This was such a nothing incident for them, yet she felt as if an entire world of problems had come crashing down upon her head. Perhaps this was another way in which she was socially stunted. They'd been having their feelings blasted and passed around since they were preteens; she'd skipped all of that entirely. This may very well have been nothing to them, but it felt as if it were everything to her. They did not realize how this wasn't just a boy finding out she fancied him. This was her very good friend finding out that she had far more feelings for him than she should have.

And she had no idea what to do with that.


	20. Don't F It Up

Dominique didn't speak for the rest of breakfast, which no one seemed to take notice of. The green drink that the Slytherin girls drank had started working for them; over the course of the remaining time they sat, and they both brightened up to their usual, annoying selves. Michael had gotten his fill of potatoes and Ellibit was attempting to figure out how much time they needed to give themselves to get down to the pitch and get the best possible seats they could. According to her, it would have to be soon.

It was still on the earlier end of things once they took to the path that led toward the main arena, and the crowds heading in the same direction weren't bad. Zara had asked if anyone had even seen Jack that morning, her eyes on Dominique as she said it, but she offered no answer. It was Michael who'd mentioned that he was already gone well before any of them had gotten up and that he was probably off getting into match mode. Even though Dominique suspected that Jack had to be inside warming up already, it didn't stop her from scanning every single face they passed on the off chance that he would be amongst them. She was now anxious in ways that had nothing to do with Quidditch.

At the entrance to the arena, they stood in the small queue to enter and followed the crowds up the stairs into the seats. Once they were up and elevated well above the ground, Dominique could see over the top of the arena and out to the path that they'd just walked. It was full of people now, all moving en masse toward them. This place would be filled in a matter of minutes.

"Do we want to go higher or lower?" Michael asked, looking around. "I prefer lower."

"Me too, let's go to the front row," Ellibit agreed. "I like to be eye level with the rings."

Erin and Zara agreed, and it seemed Dominique was the only one who preferred to be higher up, considering that view gave her a better view of the Seekers, but she didn't say anything either way. She was with a bunch of Chasers and a Keeper—of course they wanted to be eye level with the rings. That's where they spent all their time.

Michael led the way, having found a decent set of open seats about halfway between the center of the pitch and one team's rings. He counted out five seats and immediately took the first. Ellibit followed, and Dominique took the seat beside her. Zara and Erin took the seats that remained and almost immediately after they'd sat, two more people took the seats next to them. As far as Dominique could tell, the entire front row was now occupied—as was the back row. She craned her next high up, shielding her eyes despite it being very overcast outside. Both teams Seekers—Jere in blue and Valentina in green—were flying around and practicing their drop-ins and dives.

She let her eyes fall back down to the rest of the pitch. Chasers were zipping around at impressive speeds as they passed the Quaffle back and forth as if it was an extension of their bodies. Both Keepers were actively watching and making impressive stops with precision and skill that she would expect to see in a professional match. Then the Beaters—well, they weren't in the air. She looked at the ground.

She took a deep breath the moment she finally saw him. All four Beaters were there in a huddle of sorts, all talking and seemingly chatty with one another. Jack was in green, talking to a Beater in blue who she recognized as the boy who'd been in her room the other day—Diego, she wanted to say. The other Beater in green she recognized as Tree Trunks—the one who hadn't done his bookwork and had a tantrum in the common area. Her eyes went back to Jack, whom she watched laugh at something Diego must have said before the two of them were now mounting their own brooms.

"There's Jack," Ellibit offered. "He's in green. Over there."

"Oh, good," Erin said. "I can get behind cheering for a green team."

"He looks awful in green," Dominique mumbled. "Dreadful color."

"Please, everyone looks awful in red," she countered. "Probably why they haven't had any teams here wearing it."

"I think it's actually because the red would confuse people since the IQA officials are always in red," Ellibit said earnestly. It took her a moment to realize that Erin had been taking the piss and didn't care for a proper explanation.

Dominique scanned the area below, where lots of official looking people were standing around, glancing up into the sky. It was there that she also noticed Giggleswick, who was lazily holding his broom and looking rather bored with the other alternates—some of whom were stretching or actively engaging their bodies to be ready to play. None of them had been given a robe color to represent since they were supposed to fill in wherever they were needed. She couldn't help but think he looked even more out of place out there without a proper robe on.

The arena continued to fill up as they continued to watch the warm ups; a noisy bustle and excitement now filling the air. There was a tension surrounding them that made it feel so much more serious than the matches they played at school. It felt like a professional match, which was completely mind blowing when she thought about it. She'd honestly have given anything to be out there—even as a bored looking alternate.

The players had begun landing now, seeing as it was roughly ten minutes before things were to get started. They were drinking water, checking their brooms for any last minute issues, fixing their shoes, adjusting their robes. Dominique's eyes were entirely on Jack, who was now absently rotating his bat around and around in his hand almost like a baton. She knew that move—it was a nervous tic of his.

The spinning bat was a tell. Whenever he had nervous energy before a match, he spun that stupid bat. At school, she often would walk up and knock it out of his hand while he did it, which she knew annoyed him given how superstitious and precise with his routines he was. But she also sensed that it calmed him in a strange way—as if it had become its own superstition. He'd come to expect her to do it. It was all part of his pre-match process—one that he would have to adjust now that he was on his own.

The green team seemed to be on the side of the pitch that they had chosen to sit on, and they were now all congregating around a man who was addressing them. Jack wasn't far away now. If she yelled, she probably could have got his attention—and she might have done that had she not been told what she'd had at breakfast. As it were, she didn't want to provide any unnecessary distractions—

"Ians!" Michael yelled out, cupping his hands over his mouth to project his voice even further. "Hey! Up here."

She involuntarily slunked down in her seat, not that it did anything to disguise her as they were in the very front row. Short of her lying down on the ground under everyone's feet, she was completely visible. Jack had turned to look briefly—she'd been right, they were close enough for him to hear—and he seemed amused to spot Michael, who was standing and waving.

He didn't respond right away since his attention was still on the man speaking. After another minute or so, the meeting broke up and his gaze travelled back over to them and down the row, where he very clearly stopped on her. It felt as if a giant light was shining directly on top of her; she suddenly had no idea what to do with her body.

He smiled and waved a little, which she awkwardly returned. He had started walking over toward them, though for what reason she didn't know. They all sat forward in their seats to look down at him as he approached the wall below them. He stopped, now pointing at her before pointing over toward the stairs.

"What's he want?" Ellibit asked.

"Dunno," said Michael.

"I think he's—" Zara stopped to watch him before yelling, "What?"

He was pointing toward Dominique and then over toward the stairs. She had a feeling he wanted her to go over there. She pointed at herself and mouthed, "Me?"

He nodded in an obvious way before pointing at the stairs again. He started walking in that direction.

"I think he wants you to go down," Ellibit said.

"Go," Zara urged. "This thing starts in a few minutes."

"I...alright," Dominique said, slowly starting to stand. Everyone moved their legs as she scooted past both Zara and Erin, as well as the tens of other people she had to pass awkwardly before reaching the open stairwell. People were still coming up to find seats, though no one was walking down. That made things easy.

What could he possibly want? She knew he wasn't crazy enough to want to talk to her about what he'd heard last night right now. He couldn't possibly. He had about five minutes until this match started and he better have more important things on his mind. If that was what this was about, her crush might very well disappear in an instant because that would be the stupidest use of his time ever. Priorities, afterall.

She got to the bottom and turned to face the pitch. There wasn't a clear entrance, though as she came to the opening that led out to the pitch, she did see a small barrier set up to keep random people from walking out. It was there that she spotted him approaching on the other side. She supposed this was as close as she was getting.

"What do you want?" she said, her tone more harsh than it probably should have been, but she was genuinely confused and definitely anxious. "Doesn't this match start in a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sorry I know you're busy," he said sarcastically as they met at the barrier. "But I needed to see a familiar face."

She forced an awkward smile. "Well, here it is."

"Tell me this isn't that big a deal."

"Oh, this is a huge fucking deal."

She'd been half joking; attempting to get a small laugh out of him, but it was clear that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He looked a little pale and was staring at her as if he needed something from her. Some sort of confidence or words of wisdom. On the plus side, she knew immediately that this had nothing to do with what had been said the previous night. This was entirely him needing someone to straighten him out.

"I can't get myself out of my head," he said.

"Jack, you're brilliant, come on. You don't need me to tell you that. You earned every bit of being here. Just go out there and do what you need to do. You'll crush it."

He was still staring at her. That apparently hadn't been it.

"Alright, let's go the other way," she said. "Stop being such a tosser and get over yourself."

That at least made him smirk a little.

"That? That helps?" She sighed. "If that is what you expect from me, I really must be a horrible person."

He was running his top teeth against his lip in a fidgety sort of way. "No, it's not that. I'm a creature of habit, and oddly enough, when you've listened to that day in and out for four seasons, it becomes sort of expected."

"Well, then," she shrugged. "I can call you names all day."

He'd stepped back from the barrier and was back to absently spinning his bat again, not even looking at her. "Why am I so fucking nervous?"

"Because you're you and you always get nervous," she said. "But now you're legitimately fidgeting and making me anxious. You've got to get out of your head."

"How?" he asked. "This is the biggest match I've ever played in my life. If I do well—"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving him off. "Well aware of what amazing things could happen. It doesn't matter. You're as good, if not better, than all of these other Beaters." She pointed up into the sky. "Except for maybe the big bloke from our match the other day. He's mental. But at least you're on the same team."

"Yeah, well, Diego may not be as big as him," he said gesturing across the pitch at him with his free arm, "but he can literally hit the Bludger clear across the pitch. And his aim is good."

"Your aim is good," she said immediately, her encyclopedia of Quidditch knowledge now ready to bubble over. "Jack, you're a left-hand dominant, ambidextrous Beater. The only one out there—I already checked. Right there you've got an advantage on the weak left side of the pitch. You have no weak side."

"You're saying that as if my right is as strong as theirs. I'm only at maybe 60% accuracy with my right. Which is far lower than anyone out there."

"And with your left, you're at 95%," she countered. "Which is 90% better than anyone else out there." She paused. "And in that match we played the other day, I watched you. I'd put your right arm closer to 70%."

"You're being generous," he said, still twirling his bat around in circles in his hand. Dominique knew that the faster he rotated it, the more anxious he was—and right now she felt inclined to step back a bit for fear of getting clubbed even with the barrier in the way.

"You're not giving yourself enough credit. Trust me, I sit above you during these matches and watch. I've seen it."

His expression remained unconvinced.

She doubled down. "Stay on the bloody left as you always do and you'll be fine. That's why you're so highly ranked and these scouts are looking at you. You dominate the left and defend the right. Two for one. You know this. I don't have to tell you this."

He seemed to consider that. At least something seemed to be getting through that skull of his.

It was also then that she reached out and put her hand in the path of his bat, letting it smack her rather hard on her palm and watching as it tumbled to the ground. He also watched it hit the grass before turning to give her the look—the very clear mixture of annoyance and amusement that she'd come to expect every time she did it.

She smiled. "You know that's annoying."

"And you know it calms me down," he said, picking up his bat and pretending to playfully club her over the head. "But I need to go."

She nodded. "You do. But, one last thing." She held up her fist. "Don't fuck it up."

He stood up straighter and mustered the first actual smile she'd seen out of him since she'd walked down here. Famous last words. They seemed much more appropriate now than before, despite the fact that she wasn't even getting on a broom.

"Don't fuck it up," he said as bumped her fist with his. A loud whistle sound signaled then that things were about to begin. He threw her a smile before he turned and jogged back across to where he needed to be.

She watched him go, a collection of emotions now coursing through her. She was jealous, she was proud, she was smitten—it was all a bit overwhelming. It was mad to think how far they'd come. All she could do was be a bit nostalgic for the simpler times as she walked back to her seat.

A memory from her third year of a fifteen year-old Durrin, who was a little more spotty and sporting longer hair than his current self did. He'd approached her in the tunnel of the arena at Hogwarts, just as they were about to fly out for their first match of the season—Dominique's first match ever.

"Right? You two ready?" he'd asked.

A smaller, skinnier, and thirteen-year-old Dominique nodded. She'd combed her hair super neatly for once and pulled it back into a long ponytail. She'd wanted her first photo in her new Gryffindor robes to look polished and put together just like the women on her collectible Quidditch cards. She waxed her broom handle and clipped all of the stray bristles the night before. She was ready for her debut as Gryffindor's newest Seeker. She'd never been more ready.

Beside her, Jack, also smaller and more baby-faced, looked like he was about to be sick. His nerves had apparently gotten the best of him and Dominique could visibly see his hand shake while he held his broom. He didn't answer Durrin, but he didn't seem to care one way or another.

"Listen up," he said, addressing the rest of the team. "Season opener is always a high pressure match. We want to establish ourselves as the best in school, but so does Hufflepuff. Everyone's going to be trying to score more, block more, hit more. We just need to be the ones to do it faster and better. We've practiced and we look good. Gryffindor's got this." He nodded affirmatively. "Now everyone queue up."

Dominique wasn't quite sure what that meant, but one of the sixth-year Beaters—a boy called Rolly—pointed directly behind him and motioned for Jack to stand there. "You," he said to Dominique, "go behind him."

"Every match?" she asked.

He grunted as if to say yes. "captain's first. Chasers, Beaters, Seeker, Keeper. That's how we fly out every match. Every time."

She made to quickly get in the right spot, realizing that with their Keeper also being the captain, she was last. She grinned, happy to be the last to fly out. It seems like a special spot. If she couldn't be first, she may as well be last. Her grin was short lived when she noticed Jack slowly getting into place. He really did look like he was going to vomit.

"You look awful," she said to him.

"The entire school is out there," he said, barely above a whisper. "What if I make a fool of myself or do something stupid? Fall off my broom or swing and completely miss? I've never played a proper match before."

She shrugged. "Then don't do any of that."

"Good tip," he muttered. "Thanks."

"Everyone's got to have a first match," she said. "Everyone's going to mess up. Don't be dumb about it." She stopped and considered him. "Who knew you were so anxious? You need to get it together."

He didn't say anything. The gate that separated them from the entrance to the arena had slowly started to open, and Durrin cast a cursory glance behind him. "Here we go!"

"Hey, Jack," Dominique said, poking him quickly. He turned slightly and she raised her fist up to him. "Don't fuck it up."

He stared at her, those words seemingly not helpful at all. He looked down at her fist and begrudgingly tapped it with his. "Don't fuck it up," he repeated, clearly talking more to himself than her.

And it had been a decent match for the both of them. She remembered they won that game and she'd caught the Snitch, but the other details were gone in an adrenaline fueled blur. Jack didn't vomit everywhere, and his nerves decreased with each following match. For some reason, he'd said that being told to not fuck up beforehand had helped.

Fourth year. Durrin had been panicking; madly pacing up and down the tunnel before the flyout.

"Nicki, if you don't catch the bloody Snitch!" he was practically shouting in the tunnel before the final match against Slytherin. It was the end of the season and they were the closest they'd ever been to winning the Cup. She'd caught every Snitch that year, and she wasn't quite sure why Durrin was suddenly scared she wouldn't.

"I will, relax," she said, adjusting her fingerless gloves and getting into her position at the end of the queue. Her neat ponytail from that match ages ago had now replaced with a sloppy bun that was piled on top of her head. She'd forgotten to brush her hair the day before and it was knotty and unmanageable, so this was the easiest way to deal with it. "When have I not?"

"I don't think I've ever seen Durrin this stressed," Jack whispered as he too got into position. He was twirling his bat in very slow circles in his hand, another new pre-match superstition he'd picked up to calm himself. Though, given the magnitude of this match, she was even a little nervous.

"He's fucked in the head today," said Rolly, who was a lot less intimidating these days. "I'm this close to clobbering him myself." He glanced at Jack and his rotating bat. "If you hit me with that…"

"I won't," said Jack, watching his bat with the utmost intensity. "I rarely even drop it anymore."

"You're so annoying with that thing," Dominique said, watching as he continued to spin it, his speed getting slightly faster.

"I'm getting better," he said, "soon I'll be able to—"

She reached out and knocked it out of his hands, snickering as she did so. They both watched as it crashed loudly onto the stone floor. The entire team looked back at him.

"She did it," Jack said, pointing at her.

"Last I checked, that's a Beater's bat," she said, pointing back at him.

"Stop fucking around!" Durrin snapped, causing Jack to scoop up his bat and sheepishly retreat back into queue.

Dominique laughed at him. "You heard him. Stop fucking around."

"Me? How about you?"

"I'm not a nervous wreck. I know I'll get the Snitch."

"Fine, then do it."

"I will. Don't worry about it."

"Gates going up!" Durrin yelled. "Remember the plan!"

Jack held out his fist to Dominique. "Good. Don't fuck it up."

"Don't fuck it up," she repeated as she bumped his, and quickly added, "And I won't."

And she didn't. She caught the Snitch that match—a perfect season for her—her only one—and Gryffindor had won the Cup. The first and only time while at school that they'd managed to do that thus far. It had been the most amazing season. It was a shame that the following season couldn't have been the same. And that had been entirely her fault.

Fifth year. She sat in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room, watching as everyone flitted around with excited energy about the final match that afternoon. Not far away, Jack stood talking to Whit and Victoire, presumably saying goodbye before heading down to the pitch. He was dressed in his robes and ready to play.

Nearby, the new fourth-year Beater they'd acquired at the start of the season, Tommy, seemed anxious but focused. Two of the three Chasers were now coming down from the dormitories in a hurry, while the third Chaser was already down at the pitch trying to get in as much practice time as possible. And Durrin—well, Durrin was down at the pitch doing everything in his power to help train that Chaser into what it took to be a Seeker. That was because Dominique, sitting in her regular, everyday clothes, was preparing for her detention.

She'd fucked up earlier in the week. She and her sister had gotten into a fight with Colleen, and Dominique had cursed her right in the middle of the common room. Her hot-head had gotten the better of her and now she was paying the price. Longbottom had given her three Saturday detentions in a row—right up until the end of term. They started today, and despite begging and pleading with him, he'd refused to bend to allow her to play in the final match. She'd completely burned her team—they had no backup Seeker—and today, their weakest Chaser, was now filling the vacant spot.

Durrin had an absolute meltdown. The entire common room had heard him; Dominique wouldn't have been surprised if the other Houses had heard him. She'd never seen him so upset. He'd actually gone and almost gotten his own detention for following Longbottom around for the past few days, begging for him to reconsider. It was all for naught, and as it were, he'd barely spoken to her over the last week; the exception being when he was telling her to train their Chaser on how to be a bang-up Seeker in six days time. It was the least she could do.

Louis appeared next to her, wearing his standard scarlet and gold Gryffindor gameday wear. He didn't say anything. He knew better. Maybe it was a twin thing or maybe just a regular sibling thing, but he knew when to not talk to her.

"None of them are talking to me," Dominique finally said, not looking at him. "Whole team hates me."

"Jack doesn't."

She shrugged. He barely counted. He was part of the reason Dominique had tried to curse Colleen in the first place. He and Whit and Victoire and Louis: she'd been standing up for all of them. Jack at least owed it to her to not freeze her out like the rest of her team was.

"You said it yourself," Louis continued, "Ravenclaw only got in on a technicality. Should have been Slytherin."

"Technicality or not, they're still really good," Dominique said. "And Giggleswick will absolutely destroy Huxley."

"You'd think Durrin would have picked one of the faster Chasers to replace you."

Dominique finally looked up at her brother, her eyes cold. For someone so brilliant and clever at everything else in the world, the boy barely understood Quidditch. "You're aware we still need Chasers to score points? You take the best ones away from that, then we're basically not scoring _or_ catching anything."

Louis made a face, as if to say "_so sorry," _but said nothing else as a small group of people now gathered around Dominique's chair. It was her sister, Whit, and Jack.

"We've got to get going down to see Professor Ivanson," Victoire said. "I'm sure he's going to make us copy lines. Everyone always says he does."

"Why isn't your detention with Longbottom?" asked Whit.

"Because he's going to the bloody match!" Dominique snapped, not at Whit but rather out of anger. "Which is complete bollocks, but oh well! Hope he has a fantastic fucking time."

"But she's not bitter," joked Louis.

"We'll work it out," said Jack, showing a surprising amount of calm, all things considered. "I have faith we can still beat Ravenclaw."

Dominique glared at him. She was in no mood for la-dee-da positive thinking right now. "Well, good on you. At least someone does."

Victoire motioned for Dominique to go, which caused Jack to check the nearby clock. "I should go down. Make sure Durrin hasn't gone and thrown himself in the lake."

There was a murmur of agreement as the group began to disperse, with Louis and Whit deciding to follow Jack down to the arena while Victoire was already halfway to the portrait hole. Dominique sluggishly pulled herself up out of the armchair, silently wishing for this day to be over. She tagged along with the rest of them down the stairs, though hung back the entire time and dared anyone to speak to her. It wasn't until she and her sister had to split into the opposite direction that Jack had stopped.

"We can do it," he said to her. "It's going to be hard, but we can."

"Dunno what any of this 'we' nonsense you're rattling on about is," she muttered. "But good luck anyway."

He held out his fist to her, which actually looked like a completely foreign object at the moment. She knew what he was waiting for, but it didn't seem entirely apt considering she'd already gone and literally fucked everything up.

"No."

"Come on. It's tradition."

"It is when I'm playing," she said. "Also, I _did _fuck it up. A little late now."

"You know I'm superstitious," he said, still holding his fist out.

"You're mental is what you are." She begrudgingly hit his fist anyway. "Don't fuck it up. One of us doesn't need to."

"Don't fuck it up," he repeated.

"Again, mate, seems unnecessary at this point."

But they did fuck it up. The match was a mess and Ravenclaw dominated them. Not only did their Chasers score almost double what Gryffindor did, but Giggleswick caught the Snitch in record time. He'd actually set a record for the fastest Snitch catch in a House Cup match in over a hundred years. From what Dominique had heard, the Snitch had appeared a mere feet away from him—which was the best luck a Seeker could ask for. He'd barely had to try. It was a fluke, and who was to say the same thing wouldn't have happened had she been out there, but there was a chance it wouldn't have; a chance Giggleswick would have been busy stalking her around the pitch to keep her from getting it. But instead, he hadn't been concerned; he'd essentially had the pitch to himself and Ravenclaw won because of it. The worst loss in her entire Quidditch career, and she hadn't even played.

Sixth year. First match of the season. Dominique hung back in the tunnel away from everyone, her expression cross and her mood sullen. She was quieter than she'd ever been for a first match, but she had nothing to say. This was usually her favorite day of the year, but instead she was gripping her broom unusually tight as she listened to Jack address the rest of the Quidditch team—his new captain's badge affixed to the front of his robes.

"We've got this," he said with a confident smile, a completely different person from the thirteen-year-old who shook like a leaf in that very spot three years before. "I believe in each and every one of you, which is why you're on this team. Let's go out there and show Slytherin who's getting the Cup this year. Alright?"

There was a collective cheer and agreement from everyone—well, except for Dominique. She and Jack hadn't been speaking much lately. She didn't know it then, but those weeks would stretch into months.

"Everyone queue up," Jack instructed.

"Queue up how?" asked their new fifth-year Keeper, Kenley.

"Chasers, Beaters, Seeker, Keeper, in that order," Jack said, pointing for her to head toward the end. Dominique watched as Jack took his spot at the front, which—despite her being annoyed with him—made the void that his now vacant spot had created seem ever larger. She stared at the back of Tommy's head. She'd only ever known Jack to stand there. She bit her tongue and took slow, even breaths.

Kenley suddenly got behind, which caused Dominique to give her a long, slow once over. "What are you doing?"

She seemed startled and, frankly, a little terrified. "I...I was told I stand here."

"I've always been last—" She stopped, a huge sigh escaping her. Durrin was gone. Keeper wasn't the captain anymore. She was no longer last. Jack becoming captain was literally changing every single thing she knew about this team. She felt as if she was about to scream.

"Nic," said Jack, stepping out of the queue and calling her over toward him. "Quick word."

"Yes, _sir_," she mumbled under her breath before she joined him off to the side.

"Look, I know you're not exactly thrilled about this," he began, his voice more familiar and without all the stupid captain-like authority she'd been forced to listen to. "I can actually feel your anger radiating off of you like heat."

"I don't know what you're—"

"And," he said sharply, cutting her off. "I get you're probably hoping a Bludger to the skull puts me out for the season."

That was a lie. She didn't wish him bodily harm; at least nothing serious or season ruining. He was still their best Beater. Replacing him would be a nightmare.

"But you and I have always been a team," he said, sounding sincere and almost sweet. It was the last thing she wanted to hear and she was now reconsidering the Bludger to the skull after all. "I'm sorry you weren't chosen. I really am. But I'm also not sorry I was."

She bit the inside of her cheek. What the hell was the point of this conversation?

"I just want this," he gestured between the two of them, "to work again. That's all I'm asking. This team doesn't work if we don't."

"Fine," she said, though she was only saying it to shut him up.

The sigh that came out of him at that moment made it clear to her that he knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't know it then, but this would be one of the last actual conversations—not including arguments—that they would have for months. It would also be the last time they would do this until this until well into the new year.

"Don't fuck it up," he said, his tone deflated.

She almost didn't do it; she didn't want to do it. But her ability to get in a quick jab outweighed her desire to ice him out. "Don't fuck it up," she said. "You're in charge now, so all the fuck ups belong to you."

She'd walked away and hadn't looked back for months. And he'd been right, of course, the team didn't work when they didn't. They'd lost every match to every house in the first half of the season and tossed any chance at the Cup out the window by Christmas time. But when they did make up, it was amazing how much better things got. She wasn't even sure how it was possible seeing as they two of them had so little to do with each other on the pitch that it really shouldn't have affected things, but when they got along, the team was better. Perhaps they really were a pair of Old Marrieds in their own weird way—though not in the actual, textbook definition, of course.

After being forced to awkwardly climb back over everyone's leg to return to her seat, Dominique made it just in time for the start of the match. The handshakes were taking place now and the Seekers and Keepers were flying off to their posts. The Chasers and Beaters lagged briefly before mounting their brooms and flying off into the air. A man in a bright red robe stood holding a Quaffle in his hand, ready to release.

When the whistle blew, the crowd erupted into cheers and the Chasers made a mad dash for the Quaffle. From the front row, everything was a complete blur—she could barely keep up. When she found Jack, she noticed he'd cracked a few good shots right off the bat, nailing one Chaser in the leg and slowing down her run at the rings.

"What'd Jack want?" Ellibit asked, her eyes not leaving the sky.

"He just needed to be smacked around a bit," Dominique said, watching as Tree Trunks sent a Bludger at what seemed like lightening speed across the pitch toward a blue Chaser. "It's what I'm here for."


	21. White Hat

The match had gone on for over three hours and Dominique had been glued to it for every minute. It had been a fantastic showing, especially for amateur players. The action had been so fast-paced that she'd even stopped watching Jack from time to time to focus on the incredible skills from the other athletes. Zara gave constant commentary on the Chasers, seeing as she seemed to know a lot about all of them; who was the best at what particular skill set and how they were playing up to their strengths.

The Keepers were both unbelievable—keeping an insanely low scoring game despite the Chasers endless attempts. If both didn't end up playing professional Quidditch somewhere, Dominique felt she would be upset on their behalf. The Seekers, she had to admit, were the most uneventful part. Valentina did come up with the Snitch at the end, which Dominique was excited to see. It had come down to a quick dive—a three mark if Dominique had to label it—and that had been her strength all along. She'd out paced Jere by several broom lengths, causing the arena to erupt in a loud cheer when she'd captured the Snitch and the green team won. It was to be noted that both Seekers did manage to play the entire match—so no alternate was needed.

The Beaters were solid. They weren't the stars of the show, but the work they put in was vital to the success of everyone else around them. Tree Trunks had stood out as a beast of an athlete, taking two of the starting Chasers out by the end and probably causing every Beater scout in the arena to reel at the possibilities he possessed. The blue team's Beaters were both good, but had a hard time defending against Tree Trunks and paled in comparison. Jack was luckily on his team and didn't have to deal with receiving any of his Bludgers, so it allowed him to shine more than anyone on the blue team could.

He'd played phenomenally. His hits were clean, his aim was spot on, he defended well, and he'd pulled out some great shots while switching hands mid air. He'd done everything he could have done playing in the shadow of a guy like Tree Trunks. There was no way he wasn't pleased with his performance.

The arena emptied out afterwards and soon bodies were filling the camp once more. This time though, the mass exodus was heading toward the large auditorium building, where Dominique had heard they'd set up Porkeys for all the participating countries. The queue was already quite long, though many were choosing to wait around—pick up a quick match of Quidditch or lounge in the commissary to wait things out. As she and the others returned to the dormitory to grab their things, they were forced to dodge all the broom handles and suitcases that were being drug down the corridors and out of the building. Leaving day was truly upon them.

"We're going to go get in the queue," Michael had said as he and Ellibit popped into their room to grab their things.

"Me too," Erin said. "I'm going home to sleep for a few days."

Zara was already tossing her duffle out into the corridor, readying to leave. Dominique had every intention of leaving right after the match—and in fact, a part of her still wanted to—but a larger part of her was telling her to wait. She hadn't gotten to see Jack afterwards in all the chaos and she wanted to congratulate him. After their pre-match chat had turned out to not be awkward at all, she wasn't worried about seeing him. They were friends and they'd come into this together. It was only right they left it as well.

"You waiting for Jack?" Michael asked, his bag slung over his shoulder as he and Ellibit shut their dorm door for the last time.

She nodded. "Probably should."

"Tell him he killed it," Michael said. "Those were some next level skills out there." He glanced over at Ellibit. "Makes me happy I'm a Keeper and I won't be seeing any of those Bludgers headed my way."

Ellibit frowned. "You have no idea how much they hurt," she said before she looked at Dominique. "It'll be a long season."

"A season that Slytherin is going to completely dominate," Zara said in a lofty way, laughing as she did. "I'm telling you, it's going to be our year."

"Not bloody likely," Dominique said. "Got to get past Gryffindor first."

"And Hufflepuff," Michael added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm. He even added an over the top, "Woooo!" It caused Ellibit to roll her eyes, but she wasn't even attempting to defend them.

Erin had grabbed her things and was now shutting her door for the last time. As she slung her bag up over her shoulder and grabbed her broom, she glanced first at Zara before looking over at Michael and Ellibit. "Off we go?"

"Yeah, before the queue gets too long."

Dominique stood back to let them pass more, each of them throwing her smiles of sorts as if to say goodbye. Ellibit added a polite, "See you at school." as Zara waved and said, "Seventh-year." Michael said, "See you, Weasley," leaving only Erin—who was lagging behind.

"Tell Ians when you see him he did do really well," she said. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about running my mouth last night. Hope I didn't make things awkward for you."

"I'll handle it."

Erin nodded. "See you at school." She turned to follow the others, now disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

Dominique sighed. It was only her now. She grabbed her things from her room and walked out to the common area, placing them down on the first table she'd come across. There were people there hanging about, but everything seemed very on-the-go; people were saying goodbyes and having quick conversations as they passed each other. Some people were crying, but Dominique wasn't about to presume she knew what people were going through. She'd learned lately that things were never quite as they seemed on the outside.

She sat and people watched for a bit. The crowd began to thin as more and more people moved themselves out. People were coming and going—some she recognized, some she didn't. She'd seen Gabriel and another Beauxbatons' boy pass. They seemed ready to leave as they lugged oversized bags on their shoulders and headed toward the exits. Behind them, Vanessa, Chloe, and three other people were following.

Chloe was the only one of that group who'd noticed her; Dominique even threw her a deliberate wave, though she didn't return it. She instead immediately averted her eyes and quickened her pace to catch up to Gabriel and the other boy, nearly knocking right into Giggleswick and his broom as he entered the building with Ansel in tow. It was Dominique's turn to avert her eyes; she suddenly became incredibly fascinated with examining the tabletop.

The Ravenclaw boys barrelled right past her without noticing her. They were down the corridor and gone for all of five minutes before reappearing back in the common area with bags and brooms in hand. Again, neither of them seemed to take notice of her as they walked toward the exit, which was the way she preferred it. The last thing she needed was to have it out with Giggleswick right now. She was actually in a fairly decent mood.

Ten more minutes passed before the faces that she recognized from the match began appearing. A pair of female Chasers came in laughing with Valentina, while the tall male Keeper from the winning team walked in with his arm around a girl that Dominique didn't recognize. Two more Chasers accompanied by some friends, Tree Trunks with the other Keeper and a small crowd that were either friends or fans. Lastly, at the end, the three remaining Beaters—including Jack—and the leftover Chasers walked in. They were happily involved in a conversation; presumably about the match. Jack and Diego were animatedly talking about something; whatever it was made one of the female Chasers laugh loudly, and they were all very much in their own little bubble. It made Dominique have second thoughts about waiting around.

He'd been about to walk right past her, though at the very last second, someone in the common area let out a howl of a cheer, which commanded everyone's attention. It was because of that that Jack noticed she was sitting nearby. He grinned and called out, "You didn't leave?"

She shrugged.

"No, good, hey, hold on, then," he said, still being swept up in the elite crowd that had all disappeared down the corridor toward the rooms."I'll be back in a few. Wait for me.""

She sighed, feeling rather stupid. She should have just gone. Jack was clearly busy dealing with the aftermath of the match and talking to people, making connections, being an all-star. She felt wildly out of place waiting here all of the sudden.

Five more minutes passed—then ten. Had he not specifically asked her to hold on, she would have left. She was giving him one more minute; though after a minute passed, she gave him one more. After ten additional minutes, she finally was picking up her bags and telling herself he could find her in the bloody queue if he actually wanted to, but that was of course when he came around the corner with his bag and his broom. He was changed now and looked to have taken a shower. That probably explained what had taken so long.

"Hey," he said as he approached her with a friendly smile. "Sorry. You were probably waiting for a bit."

She made a face as if to say it wasn't a big deal. "Couldn't leave without talking to you about that match, now could I?"

He continued to smile. He was clearly high on post match adrenaline given the antsy nature about him. He probably could have run a marathon or climbed a mountain given how excited he seemed. "I think it went well."

"I'd say so," she offered, noticing then that Diego and a few of the other players were now appearing with their things; all looking as if they were headed off. Diego specifically came over to personally say goodbye to Jack, talking about how it was unfortunate he still had another year of school left, but here's hoping they could reconnect out there on the professional scene one day. He turned and smiled at Dominique before he left, throwing her a quick wink before he did. She wasn't too keen on him, but Jack seemed to like him. It was the only thing stopping her from flipping him off.

He continued to say quick goodbyes, hugging or shaking hands with multiple people. One of the Chaser girls in particular seemed to hug him for more seconds than would be considered friendly, and that smile she threw him was certainly more flirtatious than innocent, but Dominique chose to look away. Was this really what it was like when you properly fancied someone? Was she actually going to have a reaction to every single potential flirtation he might have? That sounded exhausting.

When all was said and done and everyone had left, Jack finally returned his attention to her. The rankings truly did make everything different around here. He was on another level at the moment—one she couldn't relate to. While she didn't sense he was taking himself too seriously, at the same time, how could he not?

She must have looked bored or awkward because he'd immediately said, "Everything goes back to normal tomorrow," as if reading her mind. Or perhaps he could just sense her shifted mood about this place. She was trying to be good and show that it didn't bother her, but apparently he'd seen right through that.

"If you say so," she said as she went to pick up her things. "You ready to go?"

He nodded, letting her pass in front of him toward the exit. "I am serious. Tomorrow, all of this is gone and it's back to the same old thing. It's back to the usual group, back to school, back to Flynn's back garden. Back to Gryffindor Quidditch being the priority—"

"I think you've got a few other Quidditch priorities to take into account now," she said, taking one last glance around the common area before heading outside.

It was well after lunch time and still overcast. There were still people pouring out of the other dorms with their things and random Quidditch matches playing out throughout the spaces around the Square. If she had to guess, she'd say the population of the camp had decreased by half already.

Jack was beside her, their brooms knocking into each other as they walked, but neither bothering to adjust to adjust to make it stop. "So. Let's hear it. Don't hold back. Tell me the truth."

She gave a slight start to that. It was only then that she remembered that her secret was out now. She'd actually forgotten up until that point since everything had felt so normal. "What truth?"

"The match," he said. "I know you've got opinions."

Right, the match. Of course. She exhaled. "Well, you played clean and hit well. I only saw you miss two defensive Bludgers that you shouldn't have."

"Of course you did. How did I know you'd say that?"

"Because I see everything. That's what..."

"...Seekers do," he said, finishing for her. "Yeah, yeah. It's your mantra."

She glanced back at him. "You did really well. Especially considering Tree Trunks was out there practically murdering people. You looked as good as you could have."

"Tree Trunks?"

"The bloke with the arms as large as tree trunks."

He laughed at that. "Funnily enough, his name is Louis. And he is absolutely mental. Would not surprise me to find out he actually has murdered someone. Absolute beast, though."

They reached the center of camp then and now saw the auditorium and the queue that led inside of the building. They walked a little further, chatting about the match while she watched everyone go about their business. The commissary was still filled with people; she began to wonder when the last people actually left this place. Was there a closing time?

"So," Jack asked once they'd finally reached the end of the queue and the talk of the final match lulled. "What are you doing when you get home?"

"I have to go to France," she said, as the real world suddenly came rushing back to her. She was headed home only to turn right around and visit her grandparents beach house in the south of France. She was due to spend the following week there; trading in one foreign bed for another.

Her mother was especially keen on getting them all to go as a family, considering who knew what everyone's plans were going to be next summer. And by everyone, she obviously meant Louis since he was most likely going to be plucked up by one of the many Ministry offices that would eventually lead him to becoming the Minister of Magic or something equally as important one day.

"Right," Jack said as if suddenly remembering. "Off to enjoy the beach and the sun. Lucky you."

She shrugged off the entire idea of it being a luxury sort of holiday instead of a chance for her to see her family. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Stay at home and play Muggle for a bit." He stepped forward as the queue moved along. "Put the wand away and spend some time with the family. Watch my brother's shitty band at a few of his gigs because I kept telling him I would."

"Your brother's in a band?"

"A shitty band," he repeated, smiling as he said it. "No, actually they're not half bad. I'm actually looking forward to seeing him now that he's home since he's been traveling a lot." He glanced over at her. "I'd invite you along, but you'll be in—"

"France," she said, following the queue forward. "It sounds fun. Sarah would probably be into it. Music is her thing, after all. Louis too, obviously, but he'll also be in—"

"France," they both said in unison, laughing a little as they did. She then added, "No, but seriously, Sarah would probably enjoy it."

He hummed a little, but didn't indicate that he'd say anything one way or the other. A silence fell between them as Dominique observed only about ten to fifteen people ahead of them in the queue; an IQA official was standing at the front directing people where to go. It seemed it was simply a matter of making sure you went in the correct direction.

"Did you hang out with Zara and Erin a lot while you were here?" he suddenly asked.

He was staring at her, though her face went blank. Why was he…? She started shaking her head. "Um, no. I didn't. No. I mean, maybe once or twice. Not really, though. Why would I hang out with them? We're not friends. We barely talk. You know that. We definitely don't talk." She stopped once she realized she was speaking very quickly. "Why...why are you asking?"

"Just wondering," he said, looking up ahead to check the queue for himself. He'd almost looked as if he had another question or something else to say; she found herself conflicted as to whether or not she wanted to hear it.

An older man in front of them in the queue suddenly inquired if Jack had been in the Premier match, causing a welcome distraction that allowed Dominique to catch herself as Jack admitted he had. A few other people had now turned around to take him in or congratulate him; all of whom now adding their own opinions about the match as Jack politely listened.

As they reached the front, the woman in the red robes asked a question in something resembling Swedish or Finnish, but Dominique couldn't understand one way or the other. It seemed her language charm had worn off, but Jack's was still properly working. He immediately answered, "Britain," before the woman pointed to her right and moved onto the person behind them.

It was near the end that a sign which read Britain caught both of their attention. They approached another woman who was standing there, though she was not wearing IQA red robes. She instead had on a rather smart looking robe set.

"Afternoon," she said, smiling at the pair. "Our next Portkey leaves in about five minutes, so you're just in time." She picked up a long green rod, like a baton, and handed it to Dominique. "Everyone get a hand on it."

She held it out so that Jack could take the other end. They both stood holding it in silence while they exchanged tentative looks with the woman, seeing as this all seemed rather awkward. She smiled lazily at them, which caused both of them to turn away and make faces at each other.

After a minute or so of forced silence, Jack suddenly said. "I'll probably end up back at Flynn's again before school starts up." He looked over at her. "If you find yourself with nothing to do once you're back from France."

"I'm sure I'll find my way over. It's where we've found ourselves all summer."

"Do you want to do something else?" he asked. "We could do something else."

"Yeah, but you know Sarah and Louis like it because they can get wrecked and then stumble back to her place. All very convenient for those two. We'd have to convince them to do something else."

"Or, they don't have to come," he said. "You and I can hang out without them. I think this week has proven we can do that."

She stared at him. The two of them were close. They were friends. They hung out. But that was at school and Quidditch. Outside of those places, especially over the summer, it was sort of understood that Louis was still their common connector. They both showed up to the same places because Louis facilitated things. Neither of them had ever really attempted to do something with the other without Louis being the middleman. Was he cutting out the middleman? Why would he be cutting out the middleman? She almost felt a little frozen to the spot. What was he asking, exactly?

"Hey! I know you two," someone shouted as the sounds of shuffling and running drew their attention toward the sight of several people dashing toward. Durrin, who was leading the charge, was carrying all of his things. Behind him, Annabelle, Felicity, and the Seeker bloke Dominique remembered being called Andy were following. Annabelle's face lit up when she saw them standing there.

"You have less than a minute," the woman running the Portkeys said to the group that had just arrived. "I'm not sure you'll be able to grab on, but I do have another one scheduled to leave in ten minutes."

"Ah, we'll make it, I'm sure," Durrin said, squeezing his way in, followed by Annabelle and the others. "We're all friends here." The space had then become incredibly cramped, with Dominique now smashed up between Jack and Felicity—her broom gripped tightly in her free hand for fear she was going to drop it.

"Twenty seconds," the woman said. "Please hold on."

"Cozy," came Durrin's voice. "Nice to get a little close in the afternoon, isn't it?"

"This is my worst nightmare," Felicity said, her voice shaking. Dominique could remember her talking about how much she hated people and crowds.

"Ten seconds."

The seconds ticked by slowly and Dominique's face buried into Jack's upper back—mostly because she really didn't have a choice due to the cramped nature of the situation, but ultimately things could be worse. It was the first time that week that she'd been close enough to notice that he didn't smell like sweat and Quidditch, but rather he smelled like soap and...nothing. He smelled normal. She kind of missed the alternative, even though this was nice too.

"Don't forget to bend your knees," Durrin called out as the swooping feeling around Dominique's waste began to take hold. "Always the key to not falling!"

Pulled and pushed and jostled, the Portkey transported them up and away and spun and wrung them around until she could feel the ground under feet once more as they slammed hard into it. She dropped the rod, and it seemed everyone but Durrin did as well because he was the one left holding it in the end. He gave it a playful little toss in the air before he glanced down and noticed Annabelle sitting on the floor—the only one who hadn't landed on her feet.

"You didn't fall," Dominique said, looking over at Jack with an impressive smile.

"I bent my knees," he said, now investigating where they'd ended up. It was there that they saw a bored looking man who was sitting behind a podium; he barely looked up from whatever he was reading when they'd arrived.

"Leave the rod," he said, now pointing toward a walkway. "Exit that way. Welcome home."

Dominique had no idea where they were, but she'd guess somewhere in London near the Ministry if she were a betting person. She followed the others down the walkway where they entered a closed courtyard that was surrounded on four sides by brick walls. There was a door on the other end to enter one of the buildings, but it seemed that was unnecessary. Andy bid them all farewell before Apparating away. Felicity did the same moments later.

"You," Durrin said to Jack, coming over to give him a hug of sorts, "You need to remember me when you go professional and I need decent tickets to matches. Seriously, mate, you were fucking unreal out there."

"You really were stellar," Annabelle agreed. "Well done."

Jack shrugged modestly.

"And I was the one who took a chance on a third-year Muggleborn kid who'd barely even held a bat in his life," Durrin said, though to whom he was addressing, Dominique didn't know. "And look at what he's become. Fucking unreal. Shame you have to go back to school. They'd have probably already signed you on somewhere if you didn't have to."

"I was born a month too late," joked Jack, referencing his early October birthday. He was right; had he been born a little more than a month earlier, he'd have started school the previous year and would have been in Victoire's class. But he was born after September 1st and thus, was now where he was. Dominique, for one, was happy with the way things had turned out. She couldn't imagine the last few years without him being a fixture in her and Louis' lives.

"I'm so happy I got to see you before you left," Annabelle said, walking over to Dominique. "Durrin said he and Stu saw you this morning and I was upset because I'd wanted to say goodbye."

Dominique found herself awkwardly smiling. She wasn't good at goodbyes. "Right, well, thanks for your help. I know I had a lot of questions."

Annabelle looked as if she wanted to hug her, though Dominique was at a loss since she wasn't a hugger. She ended up awkwardly standing there, not indicating to Annabelle one way or the other as to what she should do. Annabelle seemed to take the lack of objection as permission and immediately stepped forward with a large and very friendly goodbye hug. "I had a lot of fun that night we hung out and I hope we can do it again sometime. Maybe without the laced dragon grass."

"I'll pass on that next time," she agreed, glancing over to where Durrin and Jack were talking, both of them observing something Jack had taken out of his bag and was now showing off.

"Look at that," Durrin was saying, taking the object—which Dominique now realized was a white cap—to show Annabelle. "He's got the white hat."

Annabelle "oooohed" in a sarcastic way, though she did walk over to look at it. "The famous hat."

"Why's it famous?" Dominique asked.

"You only get one you play in the Premier match," Durrin said as he handed it off to Dominique. "Quite the honor."

"They gave it to me after the match," Jack said, watching as she took it. "I didn't realize it was special. Thought it was sort of a participation gift."

She turned it in her hands to read the front. There was a small, golden threaded IQA logo—the Quidditch rings with two brooms crossed over it—in the center and underneath it said "2018 Quidditch Training Trials." Under that, it read "Premier."

"Alright, I've got to go," Durrin said, checking his watch. "Back to the grind tomorrow." He looked at Dominique. "And I'm sure Ted will be thrilled because I know he's been working himself to death to cover my slack." He held out his arms for a hug, which Dominique again didn't invite. He still walked over and wrapped his arms around her. "Good to see you."

"You too," she said, her mouth muffled into his shoulder before he broke away and turned to give Jack a hug as well.

"Have a great seventh-year," Annabelle said, smiling at them both. "Enjoy it while you can."

They all said their goodbyes to each other before Durrin and Annabelle both disappeared immediately one after the other. Dominique watched the spot they'd vanished from for a moment before she realized she was still holding Jack's hat. For a laugh, she put it on her head and smirked at him. "Let me pretend for a minute."

He smiled at her, though that particular smile slowly gave way to a look she wasn't quite sure how to place. It did make her immediately shift her weight a little awkwardly under his gaze. Maybe she looked funny. She'd never really been one for caps and hats since they looked dumb on her, so she probably didn't need to be wearing it. She went to take it off and hand it back to him, but he shook his head.

"Keep it."

Her eyebrows immediately jumped up as she continued to pull it off her head. "No. I didn't earn it. I can't wear a hat I didn't earn. This is yours."

"What am I going to do with it?"

"Wear it," she said. "Walk around and show it off. I would."

His expression turned doubtful. "Right. Wear it around back home where no one has any idea what Quidditch is and I couldn't tell them even if I wanted to? That's where I should wear it?"

It was a fair point. He couldn't exactly wear it up and down the streets of his Muggle neighborhood, but it was still his. She couldn't take it. "You can wear it around school. Show it off at practice."

"Fine, then you hold onto it for me until we get back because I'm going to end up throwing it in a box and forgetting about it." He reached out and took it from her, though he immediately placed it back on her head and pulled the brim down so low it practically covered her eyes. "It looks better on you anyway."

She made a face as her eyes just managed to peek out from under the cap. "It does not. I look stupid in hats."

"No, you don't. You look adorable."

She was happy the cap was covering most of her face because she legitimately felt her cheeks blush at that. She looked down at the ground, blocking him from being able to see her face. He'd said she looked adorable—not a word that people often used to describe her since she usually wasn't the adoring type. She wasn't known to be sweet or cute or any of the plethora of adjectives that are usually associated with adorable things, but yet it was the word he used.

"Fine, I'll hold onto it for you," she said, making her tone sound as if she was being severely inconvenienced. The truth was, given how red her face was right now, he wouldn't be able to rip this hat off her head if he tried. It was her only line of defense in keeping her from being exposed. "But only until we get to school."

"Cool," she heard him say, making her lift her head up every so slightly to look at him. He was still staring at her, so she looked away. She had no idea what to do or say to him.

"I should probably go," she did finally manage to stammer. "I'm going to need to unpack and repack and…Yeah."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fairly excited about sleeping in my own bed tonight."

"Me too," she agreed, now feeling as if she could cut the thickness in the air with a knife. What was happening? This was probably the most boring and dumb conversation either of them had ever had with each other, but yet she wasn't making any effort to leave it. She needed to just leave. Just leave. Go. Leave. Now. Do it.

He cleared his throat. "Ummm, anyway, we should really try to do something before school if you've got time. I was being serious."

"Right. Sure." She swallowed. "And wait, did we decide with or without Louis and Sarah?"

He laughed a little awkwardly, as if he had no idea how to properly answer that. "Um, I mean, they can come. But I thought maybe it would be cool if we could…" he hesitated, "hang out. It was nice this week. Figured we could keep it up."

Her gut reaction was to ask him what he wanted to do, but she shut that urge down as quick as she possibly could and instead nodded at him. That seemed to be all she could do—nod and shrug. What the fuck was wrong with her?

"Let me know," he added, glancing around and preparing himself to Apparate. "I'll see you when you get back. Hopefully."

"Cool," he said, still nodding. "Yeah, hopefully."

"Well. Bye."

"Bye."

She Apparated away then. She couldn't handle it any longer. But as soon as she reappeared outside her family home, she felt like kicking herself. What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she forget how to talk? How to not be a complete fucking weirdo who stood their like a goon? She groaned loudly.

She could have at least hugged him, but that would have been even weirder. But she'd hugged everyone else in that courtyard, so why not him? Why didn't she just do it? And what had she even said? Every other word out of her mouth had been some dumb sounding 'yeah', like a complete moron. It was Jack, for fuck's sake, just talk to him.

She walked to the house and let herself in through the front door, dropping her bag in the entryway. It was Sunday, so everyone should be home—or at least not working. The house was mostly quiet, though she did hear some noises—music rather—coming from the kitchen. She set her broom up against the nearest wall and walked straight toward it, where she found her brother sitting with her back to her at the kitchen table. He had his portable radio turned up loudly and hadn't bothered to turn when she entered. He was also still sitting in his pajamas, which was odd even for him considering it was now the afternoon.

She walked past him and gave the back of his head a gentle smack—a tap, really—which caused him to jump a bit in his seat. He turned to look at her, though she breezed right past him on her way to the pantry for something to eat. It wasn't until she'd gotten home that she realized she hadn't eaten much breakfast or lunch and that she was starving.

He'd turned his music down. "You're back."

"Well spotted," she said, opening the panty cupboard. "Where is everyone?"

"Dunno. I've only been up a bit, but the house was empty," he said, though she didn't turn to look at him. Her eyes were busy scanning the shelves of the panty for something good to eat. She ended up settling on a box of crackers in the hopes that there was something good in the icebox.

"Dad mentioned he had to swing by Uncle George's store today," Louis continued. "And I'm sure mum had errands." He was quiet for a long moment. "But thank Merlin you're home."

"Miss me?" she asked, crackers in hand as she turned back to face him. He genuinely looked as if he'd rolled out of bed ten minutes ago with his pajamas and bed head hair. Her brother was notorious for sleeping in when allowed—a side effect the potions he took to eliminate the nightmares he was plagued with. If someone didn't wake him, he could easily sleep until well into the afternoon.

"I did, actually," he said as she noticed he was picking through a package of assorted colored candies, all while discarding the red ones. Ever since he was small, he would always pick out the red ones because he hated them. Luckily, she loved the red ones—which she now took advantage of as she went and helped herself to his small pile. "Mum's been driving me mad."

"Why?" she asked, her mouth full.

"Because I'm the only one here," he said. "And she's bored. Vic's finally gone, though you wouldn't know it since she's been over almost every day since. But mum's been oddly attached to me. I can't get a moment's peace."

"You're her bouncing baby boy," she joked as she went to check the icebox for food. "Her pride and joy. And since you're never around anymore and out all night, she misses you."

He threw her a look.

"Give her a break," she said, noticing that there was very little food—and nothing good—inside the icebox. "I'm sure this Vic move is doing a number on her. Probably didn't help that I left at the same time and she's realizing we'll all be gone soon."

"Don't give me that," he mumbled. "If it were you she was hovering over all week, you'd have already burned the house down to get away."

"Ahhh," she said as she tucked into her crackers. "The difference is that she wouldn't hover over me all week. Again, not the pride and joy. Fairly certain mum tolerates me at best." She shut the icebox after finding nothing. "Where's all the food?"

"Gone. We leave tomorrow for a week, remember? You should probably go pack."

She sighed as she sat down across from him and began eating crackers. "Why aren't you dressed? It's practically dinner time."

"Didn't feel like it," he said. "It's summer. I get a few weeks to be a lazy sod, I'm going to take them." He stopped to observe her. "What's that, then?"

"What's what?"

He learned forward and reached across the table, plucking the hat that she forgot she was wearing off of her head. She attempted to snatch it back, feeling oddly protective of it all of the sudden, but she was too slow. He'd gotten the jump on her.

"Wow," he said, reading it over. "You must have done really well. 'Premier' sounds very important."

"It isn't mine. You only got one if you made it into the Premier match. I, unfortunately, did not."

"Why do you have it, then? You pinch it from someone?" He smirked. "I honestly wouldn't put that past you."

"I'm holding on to it for Jack," she said, reaching over the table to snatch it back before Louis got it all sticky with his stupid candy fingers. "It's his. He had no use for it while he's off with his family and Muggles, so he had me take it. I'm going to give it back to him."

"Did Jack make it into the Premier match? Or does this story go deeper as to whom this hat actually belongs to?"

"Yes, Jack did make it into the Premier match," she said, her voice mocking him. "It turns out he was one of the top Beaters at camp. He really was phenomenal. Scouts wanted to talk to him."

He seemed impressed.

"He's well on his way," she said, sighing a little. "He was at the top of his game. He got a nine ranking out of ten and only about twenty-five people in all of camp got a score like that. Out of hundreds."

"Shit," Louis said, sitting back in his chair and looking a little awestruck. "That's my boy. Good on him." He paused for a second before letting his brow furrow. "And what about you?"

She loudly bit into her cracker. "I got a seven."

"Is that bad? Seven sounds alright."

"It's fine, but it's not what I'd hoped for. And you know, being a premier Seeker is harder than being a premier Beater. There's four of them and only two Seekers. Not to discount Jack's hard work, but had there been four Seekers, I would have made it, too."

"Did you at least do better than Giggleswick?"

She again took a loud bite of her cracker, though she averted her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed loudly. It caused Louis to groan before he actually started to boo her.

"There's a story behind that," she cut in. "And I will share it, but I'm not in the mood now. I need a bit of a break from Quidditch."

"That's a first."

"It was a long week," she muttered, nibbling on the end of a cracker again. She picked up the box and stood, planning to take it with her upstairs to start packing. She needed some time to unwind before her parents got home and demanded every detail of her trip. She had to come up with a story that filtered out all the drinking, dragon grass, and casual sex.

"Sarah's keen to hear about your trip," Louis said as she passed. "Wants to know if all the stories are true. About the parties and sex."

"They are."

"Was it that wild?"

"For some people, definitely," she said, casually resting her hand on the chair beside his. "Mine was probably mild by comparison. I drank and got a bit high, but that was maybe two nights. Otherwise, I behaved."

Louis expression seemed to be thoughtfully processing that. He looked as if he'd maybe hoped for a more interesting story, but he'd gotten the answer he'd anticipated.

"And," she added. "I only shagged maybe twenty people."

"Oh, well, way to keep your numbers low."

"I didn't actually," she said, throwing a cracker at him.

He dodged it as it flew past his head and landed on the floor behind him. "Even if you had, I don't care. Long as you're not being dumb about it."

"So, if I told you I only had sex with one person, you wouldn't judge?"

He looked at her, now trying to gauge if she was being serious. And if she was, why she was even telling him that. "Based on that information alone, no. But the way you're looking at me, I feel as if there's more to this story."

"There is, but I'm too tired to tell it." She turned to leave.

"Do I know him?" he called after her. "Is that's why you're being weird about it?"

"Yes," she called back once she reached the stairs.

"It wasn't Jack, was it?"

She stopped and now felt frozen in her tracks; her foot on the first step and her hand on the banister. She turned to look back at the kitchen, despite the fact that she could no longer see him, "No. Why would you ask that?"

"Just making sure," he said, suddenly appearing in the doorway and leaning up against its frame. "You know."

She was ready to say that no, she did not know. What right did he have to have any opinion whether or not she had sex with Jack? Or did anything with Jack? He had fucked her best friend. He had been dating her best friend for over a year. He was in love with her best friend. That was allowed, but reverse the roles around and it was suddenly an issue? He could fuck right off with that.

But she didn't say anything because the subject hit too close to home right now. She was afraid she'd give away too much if she so much as mentioned Jack in any capacity outside of the normal, so she bit her tongue. She bit it really hard.

"Well, you don't have to worry," she said, turning to walk up the stairs. "It definitely wasn't Jack."


	22. Knock

In three days time, Dominique was due to return to Hogwarts to start her seventh and final year. It was starting to hit her now how different life was going to be at this exact time next year, but she was trying not to get ahead of herself. They'd only arrived back from France the night before, and she was now immediately turning around and attempting to get packed and ready for school. It felt as if all she'd done lately was pack and unpack.

They'd found their Hogwarts' letters waiting for them once they'd gotten back. Even though it had been late, the opening of them had been a bit of a ceremony—not for Dominique, but for Louis, of course.

They, along with their parents, had gathered in the kitchen to watch him open his envelope, which was just ever so much larger than Dominique's. Their father had performed a drumroll on the kitchen table while Louis, stupid grin and all, tore into his for the big—albeit, completely expected—reveal. Along with his book and supply list, another letter accompanied the usual fare. This letter had a small, but important badge attached with the word's Head Boy inscribed. It was official. He'd gotten it.

Her mother had cheered, her father had beamed; Louis was following right along in his footsteps. Even Dominique had managed a sappy smile for him. Louis was pleased with himself, though he didn't say much. He smiled a lot as he examined the badge. It was a nice moment for all of them; a good way to end their holiday and start their new school year.

The following morning, she and Louis found themselves being rather lazy after their late arrival. They'd slept in, only to wake and now move their lifeless forms to the adjacent sofas in the living room. Louis had flipped on the radio to blast his all time favorite band, the Nymph Chasers, while he continued reading a book he'd started on holiday; she was flipping through the newest Quidditch Weekly that had come in the post while she'd been away. It was the first time she'd really thought much about Quidditch in over a week.

They already had plans with Sarah to go to Diagon Alley later that day; she and Louis hadn't seen each other in a week and we're most likely dying inside. Dominique had seen her very briefly after returning from the Trials, as she'd shown up on the evening before they left for France to see Louis off. While it hadn't been a very involved conversation—especially with her mother within earshot the entire time—Sarah had asked if the Trials had gone well and whether or not she'd had fun. Dominique's responses had been generic with no real details; there would be time for that later. Sarah was there for Louis, and the pair had disappeared off to the back porch for a rather ridiculous half an hour goodbye that seemed grossly unnecessary. He wasn't moving away, for fuck's sake.

France had come and gone. It had been lovely, as it always was. She'd seen her grandparents and they'd spoiled her and Louis rotten, which was always nice. She's also gotten to see her Aunt Gabrielle and her cousins, who had come up from Paris for a few days. They'd all gone to the beach and swam in the ocean; they'd walked the shops and enjoyed the cafes.

Victoire had come, too—for three days toward the end of their trip. She'd arrived alone, though Ted was set to come and spend the weekend with them. The pair tailed along with Louis and Dominique to their favorite spots; enjoying their usual routine. It was Ted's first time to France with them, and his presence continued to provide some nostalgia for Dominique. Back to a time when the four of them were all a decade younger and would spend long summer days around the beach by their house running through the sand and killing time by the seaside.

Age and time had, of course, changed so much—Victoire and Ted now kissed each other instead of kicking sand at each other; she and Louis were frequently mistaken for being a couple by strangers simply for existing near to each other, which was always annoying; and their pumpkin juices had been replaced by cocktails.

The day drinking, Dominique had to admit, was rather fun. It was the first time all four of them had done anything like that together, and she actually felt it was one of her favorite parts of the trip. It was nice to see Victoire cut a bit loose for her usual prim and proper self, and it was just nice to see Ted look well-rested and relaxed for the first time in ages.

At least he did until she asked him, "Why do you hate Stu Reynolds?"

They'd been sitting outside at a circular table of a beachside cafe they frequented, having been there for a good two hours already. Everyone was a bit tipsy. She and Ted had found themselves alone after Louis had gone to get himself something else to drink and Victoire had gone off to the toilets.

Ted started at her from across the table, his expression utterly perplexed. "I don't think you've ever asked me a more random question."

"Then give me a random answer."

"Who told you I hate him?"

"He did. Durrin, too."

"You're having chats with Reynolds now?"

"Among other things."

He sighed and rubbed his face. He suddenly looked tired again. "Short answer is because he's a dick."

"He said the same about you."

That made him blink. "Oh, did he?" He laughed a little. "Fine. You want to know? I was never keen on him even back at school. Just never bought into the hype. Then he went and did what he did to Vic, so he was dead to me after that." He shrugged. "Now I can't stand his face. Every time we run into each other—which is more than I want, but he's Durrin's mate, so it happens—he's got something to say. We just avoid each other. It's better that way."

Louis had returned then, sipping on something and sitting down beside Dominique. She acknowledged him before looking back at Ted. "He had a lot of wild things to say about you. I told him none of it sounded like you."

"Because he probably made it all up," Ted muttered. "He's full of shit."

"Is he full of shit when said you shagged Elizabeth Cole not long after they split up?"

Louis, who'd been lazily leaning back in his chair and soaking up sun rays, suddenly sat up at the comment. He let the sunglasses he'd been wearing fall down the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

From across the table, Ted's expression was rather unreadable, though she definitely detected some surprise and disbelief in there. He met Dominique's eyes for a brief second before turning around in the direction of the loo. When he turned back, he was back to staring at her. "How did that even come up?"

"Wait, did you!?" Louis yelled, and when Ted didn't immediately deny the accusation, it caused him to laugh rather loudly. "Teddy, you fucking stud." Ted threw him a look telling him to shut up.

"Does Vic know?" she asked.

"Yes, she knows," he snapped. "She found out a while back and we talked about it. I tell her everything. Past is the past. We don't reminisce about that sort of thing." He checked over his shoulder again, seeing that Victoire was now headed back over toward them. "So, let's not dredge it up."

"But I have so many questions," Louis said with a smirk. "Mainly, how did you manage that?"

"Was she drunk?" Dominique asked, jumping on Louis' train of thought.

"Was a love potion involved?"

"Did she lose a bet?"

"Imperius Curse?"

"Was she somehow under the impression she only had twenty-four hours left to live?" Dominique piled on. "I could see why she would sleep with you if that was the case."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, that would make sense."

Ted took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "Are you done?"

"No," they both said, while Dominique added, "We'd be happy to keep going."

"I'd be happy if you please shut up."

She and Louis exchanged a quick smirk, with her offering, "Well, he did say please."

"I can appreciate politeness," Louis said, right as Victoire reappeared and took her seat. She was all smiles until she looked at Ted. His expression was still rather pinched, and she must have picked up on some shift in the mood because she was already asking, "You alright?"

"I'm great," he said, forcing a quick smile back at her. She didn't seem convinced and glanced across the table at her siblings. As if on cue, they both smiled back at her in an nearly identical fashion.

Her face fell. "What did you do?"

Dominique feigned being offended. "What makes you think…?" she began to say as Louis added, "Why would we have done anything?"

She looked back at Ted. "What did they do?"

"Nothing," Ted offered, clearly looking to drop it. While Dominique loved nothing more than to poke at him and Victoire because it was genuinely fun and always had been, she wasn't looking to cause unnecessary drama and drum up rubbish from the past. They were on holiday. They were supposed to be having fun. It was best to change the subject.

"So, I had sex with Stuart Reynolds," she said completely at random, and as if she were talking about the weather.

Brash, sure, but she may as well tell them. Louis was bound to find out once they got back to school with the way everyone talked. Victoire and Ted would probably find out as well, since Hogwarts' gossip still had a way of traveling out into the outside world. At least this way she could defend herself—though whether she still needed to defend herself remained to be seen.

Ted and Victoire were staring at her; both looking as if she'd suddenly stupefied them both. Beside her, Louis had now taken his sunglasses and placed them on top of his head. He was rubbing his eyes as he quietly mumbled, "Where am I? What is happening today?"

"Sorry?" Victoire had asked, blinking at her sister in a fuzzy sort of way. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"No, you did."

"What…? No. She's taking the piss," Ted said as he examined her face. "Why would you—?"

"You had sex," Victoire said, interrupting him, "with Stuart? The one from school? The one I used to fancy?"

"Oh, did you used to...?" She made her face look deliberately pensive. Louis snorted beside her.

"You're taking the piss," Ted repeated.

"Were we not just talking about him?" Dominique asked. "Why do you think I brought him up in the first place?"

Victoire gaped a bit. "When did you even have the chance to—?"

"Trials. He and Durrin are good friends, apparently."

"They're best friends," she said, her expression becoming more pinched as she glanced over at Ted. He still looked rather thunderstruck, as if he was still waiting for her to tell them it was all a big joke.

"Was he the one?" Louis began, his arms crossed over his chest. "You said you did with someone I knew?"

She started to nod, again glancing over to where it was starting to dawn on Ted and Victoire that the "just kidding" wasn't going to follow. Ted suddenly looked rather horrified. Victoire seemed nothing but confused as she muttered, "But you wouldn't have."

"But I did."

"But you wouldn't have."

"But. I. Did."

She stared at her for a long moment. Dominique could practically see the wheels turning in her head as if this was quite possibly one of the most ridiculous things she'd ever heard. "Did you seriously?"

She nodded.

Ted stood up. "I can't…" He shook his head. "I'm getting a drink."

He walked off after that. Dominique hadn't meant to come off so cavalier, but it had felt right just to say it. She still couldn't tell how exactly Victoire felt since she was obviously processing things. On the contrary, Louis now seemed particularly interested in the progression of this conversation and kept looking from one to the other.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"Opportunity?" Dominique offered. "Right place at the right time? Bored? Looking to rebound after Henry? He's fit? Take your pick." She stopped to watch her sister's face. "You're not...angry, are you?"

Victoire seemed to think about that for a long moment. A very long moment. Long enough that Louis and Dominique were now silently making faces at each other as if trying to decipher what was happening. When she finally spoke, her voice had actually startled them. "I'm more confused. You never fancied him. I thought you couldn't stand him"

"Again, just sex," she said. "Not marriage."

Victoire rolled her eyes as she sat up and sipped off her cocktail. "I don't understand how you can have sex with someone you don't even fancy."

"I mean, I enjoyed him well enough to have sex with him," she said. "He was an alright bloke once we got to talking. Even said he felt bad for what he did to you and seemed really sincere."

"You talked about me?" she asked. "Before you had sex with him, you talked about me?'

Dominique shrugged a little sheepishly. "It wasn't...Not right before. But you obviously came up at some point."

"You are so weird," she said, draining her drink and looking over to search for where Ted went. "And I'm not angry. I have a lot of thoughts, but I've moved on and he's evidently moved on..." she paused and mumbled, "...to my sister. He was aware you were my sister?"

"Not at first, but it did come up, yes."

"Weird," she mumbled once again, now staring into space. At the same moment, Ted had returned with a drink in one hand and paper napkin in the other. He immediately handed the latter to Dominique.

"So, that's the name of a Healer friend of mine at St. Mungo's who can get you checked out for all the potentially awful things that sleeping with Reynolds could have possibly brought upon you. You should owl him before you go back to school. Just to be safe."

Louis started laughing beside her, though she took the napkin and crumbled it up immediately; chucking it straight back at Ted.

Once that was out in the open and Victoire ultimately didn't care, Ted pretended like it had never happened, and Dominique felt a sense of relief that could only come with having come completely clean of a burden.

As it were, there was really only one secret left; that was barely even a secret anymore considering so many people knew about it. Even Jack knew about it, but he hadn't heard it from her mouth. He still had no confirmation that it was real.

She'd thought about him constantly while away; especially when she was sitting on the beach or whenever she had an opportunity to let her mind wander. She'd played that last day at the Trials in her head over and over and over again, and it became so apparent that he'd been testing the waters with her. He had heard she'd fancied him and was trying to see how true that was; whether she'd fess up to it. She wanted to believe that he hadn't gotten a definitive answer and that was why he didn't come right out and say anything. She didn't know what to do with that.

She was afraid to see him. Where exactly did they go from here? She didn't know what she wanted to happen. A relationship? What would that entail? With Henry everything had just happened and she'd never had time to give it any thought. Then everything had fallen apart and she'd sworn off relationships after that. While she could obviously change her mind, she wasn't sure she was ready to give another boy the power to hurt her again so quickly.

Not to mention what would happen if she and Jack went the way of her and Henry? What if it didn't work out? Then what? It'd be one thing if they were out of school and could go and live separate lives where they never had to see each other, but they weren't there yet. They had a whole school year and—more importantly—an entire Quidditch season to get through. They'd already seen what happened to their Quidditch team when they weren't getting along—and the truth was that they both needed this season to go well. This wasn't a season either of them could afford to screw around with. It was too important.

So she'd made a decision while in France. As much as she fancied Jack—which was a lot—she couldn't do it. She couldn't let it happen. If she nipped it in the bud now, before either of them got carried away, then things could go back to the way they were before the Trials. Back when things were simple and feelings were secret. If he wanted to know if her feelings were real, she had to make him think they weren't. She had to pretend as if she didn't think about him all the time; she didn't daydream about his arms or his smile or the various things she'd like to do to him. She had to stop that. She wasn't sure how she was going to do that, but she had to. She'd already made that decision. She was sticking to it. It was for the best.

"I'm going to shower," Louis said back in their living room, snapping his novel shut and tossing it to the foot of the sofa. He was now sniffing the front of his shirt before also smelling under one of his armpits. "Sarah will be here in a few and I probably shouldn't smell like day old socks"

"She's been in your room," Dominique said, not looking up from her magazine. "Trust me, she smelled it."

Louis put on a fake laugh before standing and stretching his arms over his head. "Did mum or dad leave you money for books and supplies? I forgot to ask them."

"I think they left some on the kitchen counter," she said, flipping the page and continuing to scan photos.

He made a non-commital noise before disappearing around the corner and then loudly thumping up the stairs. She realized she should also go and get dressed if they were going to get their day started, and aimlessly tossed her magazine to the floor before standing. The radio was still playing a Nymph Chasers' song about some wild night, and she let herself bop around for a moment as a way to shake out her laziness. The music kept her from hearing the knock at the door, or it creaking itself slowly open. She nearly screamed when she saw Sarah walking in.

"Sorry! I knocked!" Sarah apologized. "I heard the music and assumed you couldn't hear."

Dominique was still clenching her fists tightly to her body, though she let herself exhale. "Fuck, you scared me."

"Sorry," she repeated, shutting the door behind her before turning and smiling. "Great song, though."

Dominique shrugged, not caring much one way or the other. The Nymph Chasers were also Sarah's favorite, and she probably enjoyed them even more than Louis did. Their shared love for the band had been one of the things that had brought them together in the first place.

"You look great," Sarah offered, walking into the room now. "You definitely got some sun. How was France?"

"Good," Dominique said. "Same old, same old. Grandparents, beach, repeat. Nothing particularly exciting. And Louis was good, don't worry. I didn't even see any girls trying to flirt with him since everyone always assumes he and I are together when we walk around together." She rolled her eyes.

Sarah laughed a little as she glanced around the otherwise empty room. "Where is he?"

"Showering," she said, collapsing back onto the sofa. "He'll be down soon."

She nodded but said nothing as she went to sit on the sofa that Louis had vacated not long before. It wasn't until she'd sat and picked up his novel, given it a once over, and placed it back down that she finally said, "Good, because I was hoping to get a few minutes alone with you."

"Me? To what do I owe the honor of your undivided attention for once?"

Sarah's face suddenly looked tired, though she didn't bite on the jab. "I saw Jack last night."

Dominique forced her face to remain utterly blank and emotionless, despite now sensing from Sarah's tone that this clearly had something to do with her. "Ok?"

"He came over to Flynn's. It was the first time I'd seen him since you'd left for the Trials. I guess he was spending some time with his family."

"He'd mentioned that," she said, attempting to appear casual despite the fact that she was in desperate need to know where this conversation was going.

"Anyway," she continued. "Was of course happy to see him since it'd been awhile. We caught up a bit. He told me all about the Trials and how he did really well. How you did really well."

"No, he did really well," Dominique corrected. "I did alright."

"He was the one who said it," she said. "I asked him about the non-Quidditch stuff. I heard you two shared a room and he apparently got off with some French girl. And you walked in on it all?"

Dominique nodded a little.

"And you had some sort of a one night stand with Stuart Reynolds?" she asked, staring Dominique down as if she couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, "Now," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before reopening them, "I don't even have the time to touch that at the moment, so we'll get back to that later."

"Good," Dominique muttered. "Because I'm so tired of talking about him."

"Oh, you are _not_ getting out of that, so don't think you are." She stopped and made a face as if forcing herself to refocus on whatever it was she was attempting to get to, "Anyway, Jack tells me he had a strange night where Erin Tanner and Zara Zabini got drunk and told him you fancy him."

Well, there it was. Complete confirmation that he knew because Sarah wouldn't know the exact details otherwise. Those words had definitely come from Jack's mouth. She closed her eyes and let her head drop.

"How do Erin and Zara know anything about any feelings you have for anyone?" she asked, letting her expression grow a little wild. "And when did you start having feelings strong enough for Jack that they were worth telling random people about? Before you left, it was this little, baby, 'only when I'm drinking' crush. You were adamant about that. Now you properly fancy him?"

She opened her eyes, but said nothing. She instead just took a heavy breath.

"Do you?"

She still didn't answer her. She knew she needed to say no; that she didn't properly fancy him and nothing had changed. Erin and Zara were cracked. Everything was just as it was before she'd left. Stick to that story. She knew all of this, but she couldn't seem to find the words.

"He asked me if it was true," Sarah said. "Whether or not I knew anything."

"What did you say?" she asked, her tone now eager. There was no hiding anything there.

Sarah shrugged. "I said I didn't know. Because I don't know." She stared at her. "What should I have said? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened," she said. "And I don't know." She started wringing her hands a little. "I don't know! I feel as if I was in holiday mode while I was there. Nothing was real. Yes, I slipped up a bit and felt some things because he was right there sleeping three feet away from me. Yes, I got chatty with Erin and Zara because they were there and willing to listen. It was a strange situation. You know how you go on holiday and get carried away? You sometimes can act a little differently?"

Sarah shrugged as if she could see that.

"That's what it was. Now that I'm back home and back around everyone else and everything familiar, I don't know. I don't think I fancy him." She looked away. "I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because Sarah, it's fucking complicated. Not to mention, Henry and I haven't even been split up a month, so I was thinking of taking a little more time to deal with that before jumping into something else."

They stared at each other for a moment. Sarah seemed to be considering something because she finally came out with, "I asked him what he thought. How he felt about it."

Dominique couldn't pretend not to care if she tried. "And?"

"But he didn't say much. You know how he can be. He seems confused. Almost too confused, if that makes sense. As in, there are normal levels of confusion when you hear stuff like this, then there are serious levels of confusion—as if he's been thinking about this a lot and he'd been waiting to talk about it. I got that impression. He, like you, did also use the word complicated. And then something about Louis—"

Dominique rolled her eyes.

Sarah smirked a little. "Right? I mean, really? I feel as if a conversation would solve that problem, but what do I know? Weren't you the one telling me he's a—what'd you call him? A man of honor? A knight or something?" She threw her a look. "Seems you were right because Louis was one of the first things he went to."

Dominique looked away. "That's all he said?"

She nodded. "Flynn and some of the others came around then and Jack dropped it. I left after that. Too much drunken testosterone for my tastes. Seemed as if he only brought it up to ask me what I knew." She shrugged. "Had I known you've gone and properly started fancying him, I would have—"

"Stop," Dominique said, throwing her a silencing look. "Look, he's right. It's complicated. I don't…" She sighed. "Neither of us need this right now."

"Need what? If you two push through the confusion and complications, you may find something pretty great on the other side."

"Or the whole world goes to shit," Dominique countered, standing up from the sofa and ready for this conversation to be done with—never to return. "Look, it was temporary madness. I'm telling you, when we're back at school, it'll be an old story. Nothing to even talk about."

Sarah stared at her while the sound of Louis' footsteps overhead were now apparent; he'd evidently gotten out of the shower and would be back down soon. "Alright. Well, I invited him to go shopping with us today."

"Jack?"

She nodded. "Last night, I told him we were all going to get our stuff for school today and that we'd be there around lunchtime. He said he'd meet us around noon."

Dominique looked down at her clothes, realizing she was still in a tank and a pair of sweatpants that she'd slept in the night before. She immediately felt an urgent need to change. She needed to brush her hair. She needed to wash her face. Despite the fact that she'd showered the night before, she was now entertaining the idea of doing it again just to be extra sure that—

A sudden knock at the door gave her a start. She turned to look at it before whipping back around to look at Sarah. "Is he coming here?"

Sarah shook her head, though she looked confused. "He told me he'd meet us there. He could have changed his mind?"

She felt her anxiety rise, but stopped just short of saying, "Fuck" as she quickly started running her hands through her hair, which was knottier than she'd have liked. She took a heavy breath and stood up straighter as she walked straight over to the door, forcing herself to be cool and collected. With a gentle tug, she pulled it open and peered out onto the front porch—only to feel immediately petrified to the spot.

It wasn't Jack.

"You're home," said Henry, standing there with his hands in his pockets and an oddly kind smile on his face. "I'd been coming by all week to see you."

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for all the messages, reviews, love, questions, comments, concerns. You all are amazing. :D Part two, "Something Found" is next in the series! Hope you check it out!


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